


To The Future Of Your World, I Fight

by killerjoe1995



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Association for Mythical Rights, Derogatory Language, Human brian, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Prostitution, Secrets, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Slow Burn, derogatory working environment, fantasy lands, fighting for rights, human Freddie, human roger, mysteries and lies, myths and legends, pixie John Deacon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 09:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21013850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerjoe1995/pseuds/killerjoe1995
Summary: In a world that is slowly dying, regular human Brian May does what he can to do the right thing. While the Government's army advances in the conquest of new territories, and mythical beings are captured and enslaved, Brian joins the Mythical's Rights Patrol, a peaceful association which tries to do its part. However, the encounter with an enigmatic pixie and his owner changes Brian's life in ways he could never have foresee.Also, he had always knew that his friend Freddie was hiding something, but he couldn't have imagined it was of this enormous proportions.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, hello there! And thank you for deciding to give this work a shoot!
> 
> What can I say? This is a pretty self-indulgent project. I have planned quite a long ride for this one, and I hope some of you will join me :)  
It's fantasy. And modern too. It's a faraway world, a bit magical, a bit dystopical, and I'm having a lot of fun in developing it. I thought our dear boys would fit just perfectly here... let's see if I was right xD
> 
> It goes a bit dark, but I swear that in this house we stand for happy endings, so there will be one. 
> 
> I have six chapter ready, so I'll post weekly (Saturday or Sunday).  
Also, I'm not a native english speaker, and I'm not betaed. If you spot something horrific, feel free to point it out :)
> 
> With the hope you'll like it... let's began!

The world was not an easy place to live for Brian May.

It wasn't easy for all the 'kind souls', or so his mate Freddie always said with an aura of wisdom. To which Brian always answered that there were a lot of beings that had it much harder than him, anyway.

Brian walked briskly on the busy street, the important documents he held strictly plastered on his torso. He had all the papers needed to free another mythical being from a cruel human, but he had to move fast. He knew how things went, and it was a sadly high possibility for the poor fairy to 'disappear' before the conclusion of the deal. She wasn't the first, and wouldn't be the last.

Their world was ruled by the law of the strongest. There was no other definitions. Humans held resources, and the most powerful could have anything thanks to money and relationships. The mythical beings had power, the real power. Strength, wings, magic. No human left alone and weaponless could stand a chance against them. Vampires, demons, dragons and witches could very well live outside the law, wrecking terror against human cities and villages on the outskirts.

Regular humans were at least protected by laws and public forces. Not much, if you were unlucky enough to find yourself in a strong magical being clutches, but if you were careful, as a human, you could live your life in a somewhat peaceful environment.

That left out only two categories of beings: humans less lucky, the poor and indigent, and mythical beings with no strong powers. The latter was the most subjugated. There were no laws to protect them, no rights to be demanded. They couldn't go to school, could enter just shops and public transportation for their kind, had no access to hospitals and could be sold and owned like special luxury goods.

That was the world they created. Was it worth living this kind of life?

Brian, after a long period of consuming depression (which still lurked in a corner of his mind every minute of the day), decided to live. And to do something to change.   
He couldn't bear to just close his eyes, take his diploma and go to work for some high name in the scientific circle. And while his mother always expresses her concern about his life choices, with his father and his judging expression just behind her, Brian joined an organisation that battled for the right of the mythicals. It was hard work, usually useless work at that, but Brian held hope. For that one being over 100 they were able to help. For Brian, even that miserable result was important.

Freddie called him disillusioned. Tim told him to get a grip of himself. Brian didn't care. He was stubborn, and passionate. He had a goal, and intended to pursuit it 'till the end of his life.

The wind picked up, and Brian's field of vision neared the zero. It was no mystery that their world was dying. The temperature raised, and half the once green and lustful lands were now deserted and inhabited. Water was scarce, and every hour of the day the city was invested by sand storms. The alarm blasted and Brian, used to the procedure, began the brawl to enter a safe place to wait out the storm.

He was lucky, and soon he could order a cup of coffee in a small bar. He asked to use the phone, only to be told that it wasn't working. Brian sighed and looked at his documents. He hoped that the fairy would still be here by the time he would be able to exit again, but he hadn't much hope.

Brian took his coffee and scanned the hall. There were five tables all already taken by patrons. Some of them seemed regulars, dressed with their working clothes and with a pint of beer before them. Others were, as him, just passer-bys that found shelter. They were looking outside to the sand storm, the once terrifying and astonishing sight by now just a daily occurrence. Brian chanced a look at the window and quickly turned his head. He was positively terrorised by sand storms. The only idea of dying suffocated made chills run down his spine.

Brian let his eyes wander to the patrons, lost in thoughts. However, one man caught his attention.

He was pretty tall, even if not as much as Brian, and had long, slightly curly, hair, of a brown-red colour. They fell over his shoulders in soft waves, and curled at the end in a very endearing way. He was nursing his own cup of coffee in silence, tucked away from the crow. Probably prickled by Brian's stare, the stranger looked up and their eyes met. The boy had delicate features, a bit sharp, pale skin and grey-green eyes that held a curious gleam.

Brian breath hitches. He knew those features.  _A pixie_ . 

The pixie quickly turned his head, hiding behind his curtains of hair. Brian was confused. It wasn't usual to see a mythical creature without their Master, or without a collar around their neck to show that they were owned. This pixie, however, seemed alone and pretty much unowned. It was dangerous walking around free for them, they could been taken by anyone who stated the claim! Brian association had a list of safe people who could take ownership of a mythical to assure them protection and a dignified life. He couldn't walk away without offering the pixie his help.

With that aim in mind, Brian waded through the bar and to the angle in which the pixie was hiding. When he was near he caught the end of a pointed ear that poked through the pixie's hair. It was all the confirmation Brian's needed. He placed himself in the stranger line of sight and held out his hand in what he hoped was an affable gesture.

“Hello there. I'm Brian, and I can help you” he began, keeping his tone a slight whisper as to not alert the other patrons. Who knows which kind of depraved soul could they be. The pixie raised his head and fixed Brian with an unimpressed look. The curly haired man felt his cheeks going slightly pink at the plain, and a bit annoyed, expression, as well as the lack of reactions. The two men stared at each other for some moments. Then, the pixie scoffed. 

“Can you? Help me with what, exactly?” he asked, with a challenging tone. Brian, taken aback, could just gape at the pixie. It wasn't common for mythical beings to be this confrontational against humans. Usually they looked down, answered demurely and called everyone 'sirs'. This pixie, however, seemed quite calm and collected when treating a human with this level of disrespect. Not that Brian minded, but this kind of behaviour could be even more dangerous than walking alone and untaken in the streets. The curly haired man furrowed his brows. 

“I'm part of the MRP association, and we could help you find a human, a safe space and a better life” he answered with his usual slogan. It seemed just empty words, maybe, but it was true. They were able to help, at least a bit. The pixie rolled his eyes at that. 

“Sure thing, man. Whatever let you sleep at night” he answered flippantly to an increasingly astonished Brian. With anything else to say, Brian took a step back. Could it be that the pixie was already taken by a human who let him go around freely? Seemed a bit unlikely to him. The pixie wasn't paying him any attention, gaze locked on his coffee. Brian decided to chance his luck for a second time. 

“Listen, I know that most of you are sceptical in asking our help, or even afraid to, but I can assure you...” he began, trying to 'establish a contact' as the psychologist at his association taught him, but the pixie raised his head just a second later and fixed him with an annoyed glare. 

“Most of 'us' can easily live without having people like 'you' bothering us” he replied, with an air of finality. Brian, more confused than before, was also becoming slightly annoyed himself. He was just trying to help!   
“We have programs and safe houses!” he remarked, to make his point come across the stubborn pixie. Some patrons near them quieted, interested by the strange conversation. The pixie looked around himself warily before answering. 

“I don't need your help. I'm human” he stated, his affirmation more directed to the balding man at his right than to Brian. The curly haired man looked around too, finding more than one interested gaze upon his companion. Still, his claim was rather bold for someone who looked so clearly as a mythical. Stating the false on your species could very well place yourself in prison, or even worse. This pixie was quite brave, if not plainly reckless. 

“Are you? Show your ID” someone said in the background, and Brian cringed. That, too, was a rather common practise that Brian found unfair and degrading. Only humans possessed an identity document, with mythical beings only having cards to indicate their owners. And everyone could ask you to show your document if there was a suspicion on your species. This habit tended to expose a great amount of mythicals that were trying to go unnoticed while being unowned.   
Brian hoped to not have, with his desire to do something to help, doomed the pixie to an horrifying fate. 

The pixie however just rolled his eyes and produced out of his back pocket an ID document, handing it to Brian with a sharp gesture.

“Here, test your theory”. 

Brian didn't ask for this but took the document nonetheless, opening it with some trepidation and reading it aloud for everyone to hear.

“John Richard Deacon, born in Oadby. Species human” he stated, surprised. He looked up to see the pixie – well, human, apparently – staring at him victoriously. Brian looked at the paper in his hands, trying to find a trace of forgery, but he couldn't spot anything. It was a regular ID, which looked the same as the one he had in his pocket. He swallowed, embarrassed. The crowd which was looking at the show quickly dispersed, disappointed. John Deacon held out his hand, expectantly. 

“But... your ears are pointed” Brian mumbled, to justify his earlier behaviour. Deacon snorted. 

“I'm aware. It's not common, but is a family characteristic. I have a medical certificate for that, if you can't placate your curiosity as it is, Mister” he answered flatly, and Brian felt his cheeks burning. 

“No, I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed” he stammered, while John just took back his ID and put it in his trousers. The man just rolled his eyes again, for good measure, and strode toward the exit without looking back. Brian noted that the sand storm, during their encounter, had come to an ending. When he looked again toward the man, he was already disappeared. 

*

“You did _what_ now?” 

Brian didn't bother to raise his eyes, already enough embarrassed as it was. He could hear Freddie's laughter booming inside his tiny flat.

“Listen, he looked exactly as a pixie! He even had the pointed ears! How could I _knew_?” he defended himself, why the hell did he confided in Freddie anyway? It was predictable that his best friend would had only laughed at him. 

“Yes, darling, but _still_. Even the documents? Weren't you humiliated enough?” Freddie's voice trilled, and Brian buried his red face in his hands. Besides, he was unconvinced. The man looked too much as a pixie to not raise at least a bit of suspicion. 

“You're probably right, I shouldn't have pressed him. Anyway, I still think he's a pixie” he shared his doubts, only to receive a pillow on his face for his troubles. 

“Brian, darling, why the hell do you care?” Freddie moaned loudly, while carelessly slumping down on the couch next to Brian. The curly haired man sighed. 

“Because he could be in trouble, carrying around false documents like this! What if someone founds out and claims him? Or worse, turns him to the Government? It is _dangerous_” Brian pointed out, his values burning a fire in his guts. He couldn't just leave the boy alone in that unpredictable situation, even if he didn't want his help. Alas, he didn't have a clue to find him again. Also, he had a false ID document, which was something worth of taking into account. 

“Who could have gave him a false document?” he reasoned aloud, mentally scanning all the names of the outlaws that were neatly written on the association's black list. There were a lot of people, both human and mythical, that could engage in such an illegal, while remunerating, activity. 

“Darling, you don't even know if it _was_ false! Why can't you just accept the fact that, perhaps, this John Deacon guy is a human after all?” Freddie complained, pouring himself a glass of wine and refilling Brian's one. The curly man shrugged. 

“I'm not convinced. I'll do a research tomorrow, and if this 'John Deacon' doesn't come up anywhere I'll take measures” he promised. It was his job to help, and he was going to do it at the best of his possibilities. Freddie scoffed, schooling his features in an unimpressed look. 

“Brian dear, if the boy doesn't want your help you should let him be. There are so many mythical creatures you could focus your attention to” he suggested coyly, and Brian slumped against the backrest. He knew Freddie's was right, but still the mysterious pixie – because he was a pixie, Brian was sure of that – had intrigued him too much to just let go. 

“Well, dear, enough with work-related talking! You know what Jerry darling found for me?” Freddie changed topic without much effort, and Brian let him. He decided to close the entire encounter in a corner of his mind, to be thought about in the morning. 

“What?” he took the bait, knowing Freddie and his love for the melodrama. His dark haired friend didn't disappoint, and stood up with a flourish. 

“Two tickets to the main event of the month” he announced with a posh accent that made Brian laugh.   
“Oh really? What event?” Brian asked, he wasn't really a social person, let alone one as good as mingling like Freddie. The other man smiled like the cat who caught the canary. 

“Oh darling, I have to teach you _everything_! You remember Foster's place, the 'EMI Studios'?” he elaborated, showing off a pleasured smirk. Brian paled. He knew Foster's place all right, the most famous night club of the entire city. It was a place at the edge of legality, that served the most inebriating of beverages, in which it was possible to find the worst drugs on the market, and that offered the better, and most sought after, erotic shows of the town. 

To say that Brian wasn't thrilled about heading to that place was the understatement of the  _century._

“Absolutely _not_” he shouted, shocked. Even if he wasn't happy about Freddie taking too much fun in joining the night club's scene, he could tolerate it, but to think he would drag Brian too... no way. Also, those places were packed with poor mythical creatures forced to work as dancers, or worse, to serve as prostitutes for the most wealthy. No way in hell. 

Freddie made a face.

“Brian darling, don't be a party popper” he pleaded mockingly. With his hands placed on his hips and arms akimbo, he vaguely resembled an exasperated mother. Still, as ridiculous as he looked, Brian didn't feel like laughing. 

“Those places are exactly what I, and the MRP, are fighting against! I'll never put even a foot inside one of them” Brian claimed, while crossing his arms in a gesture of finality. “Also, you shouldn't either, you're increasing their business and popularity in joining their events” he added, just to be spiteful. Freddie shrugged, unconcerned.   
“Maybe, darling. But I'm not part of your association, am I right?” he commented nonchalantly. Yes, Freddie wasn't keen of the current law setting himself, but didn't understand how depriving himself of the joys of life could help anyone. He avoided sleeping with owned mythicals and considered himself clean of charges. Alas, Brian didn't agree on his logic. 

“Come on, Brian darling. Think about it. You could find poor souls in need of the MRP's help this way” he suggested, and that caught Brian's attention. As disinterested as Freddie was in the sexual workers fate, it wasn't a bad idea in itself. He should ask for the association's head border approval for this one. 

“When is this special event, then?” Brian heard himself ask. Freddie's grin widened. 

“You should go shower, darling. You have three hours to get prepared” was the happy response. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian thinks he's absolutely unlucky and useless, until he's not. Also, he was right: the pixie *is* a pixie, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! Here the second chapter.   
We head straight into the story with this one...
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos in the first chapter, and I hope you'll like this one too :)

The place was packed. There were loud music booming in Brian's ears, and bright strobe lights that made him feel slightly dazzled. Upon entering the club's door Freddie had dragged Brian to the bar and slammed in his hand a glass full of a strange bright green liquid that Brian wasn't so sure it was comestible. He took a small sip only to nearly spat it out when it touched is tongue. The strong taste of alcohol mixed with a sweeter undertone wasn't exactly to his liking. Freddie only laughed.

“Oh Brian dear, you should learn to live” he commented amused. Brian shoot him a dark glare, but didn't answered. He had a goal for the evening, and it wasn't getting wasted on some strange liquor. 

The men entered in the deep of the locale, with Freddie shouldering people to make way. Brian stayed behind, looking curiously around. It was his first time in a place like this, and everything was new and strange to him. There were tables and couches scattered everywhere, with a small area empty that acted as an improvised dance floor. In the middle of the room there was a huge stage, elevated, on which there were lap dancers going on with their shows. On the floor, besides the couches, there were lap dance poles for what, Freddie's supplied, were private dances. How much 'private' would those been, Brian wasn't sure.

Brian chanced a look at the stage, and felt like being sick. There were a lot of mythical beings up there, dressed in skimpy clothes, that were catcalled and harassed by everyone who felt the desire. There were mostly fairies, with their colourful wings that fluttered with their sexy moves against the poles. The majority of them had big collars around their necks, with the EMI brand imprinted on. It was a disgusting show of that unfair world.

“Liking the show?” Freddie nearly shouted in his ear, to make himself heard over the music. Brian winced. 

“It's horrible. They are all slaves!” he replied, gesturing to the stage. Freddie had the good grace to look sheepish. 

“Well, not everyone. Let's go the other room, you'll like it better, it's quieter” he suggested, taking Brian's arm and guiding him to the other side of the dance floor. The curly haired man followed the lead, already fed up with the whole ordeal. He better start talking with some of the mythicals that were running around the place, acting like waiters and forced to accept every leers and touch from the party's guests. It was a terrifying sight, and he felt nauseated with himself to even accepted to be there. Freddie opened the door to a private room, and ushered Brian inside. 

Freddie was right, at least. In the second room the music was much softer, and so were the lights. It was a space less wide than the main room, all furnished in light coloured wood. The couches and tables were less, but more organised, and all were in fabric instead than leather. The stage was at the other side of the room, and it too was smaller, with only four dancers who were languidly moving to the slow pace of the music. Brian felt himself relax slightly, this was more his scene.

“Let's take a seat, darling. You look like you need it”.

Freddie moved forward to the only free table, exactly in front of the stage. Brian wasn't eager to see other enslaved mythicals but complied anyway, too tired to argue. They sat down, and Freddie sequestered Brian's drink taking a large mouthful. At Brian's raised eyebrow, he shrugged.

“You don't need it any more, you lightweight” he mocked half-heartedly, and Brian had to agree with him. He wasn't used to alcohol, and it shown. He was already buzzed with only half a glass. 

Near him, Freddie wolf-whistled.

“Look at _that_” he exclaimed, pointing with enthusiasm to the stage. “I would spend money on a night with him. If I had any to waste, that's it” Freddie commented hotly. Brian shivered. 

“You shouldn't fantasising on someone who, if free to make his own choices, would _never_ be here showing off his body to you” he grumbled, annoyed. He had enough of Freddie's carefree attitude over this example of inhumanity. He stood from the table and approached the small counter, decided to chat up the fairy waiter responsible of the room. He had work to do. 

Freddie stood as well, his voice following him.

“Brian, come on! He's not owned, and not even a mythical” Brian heard him plead his case, but didn't commented. He had his reservation on the fact that someone could just choose to be a night club dancer if there were other options available. Probably that human had as much as a choice as the mythicals – aka, none. 

His attempt to speak to the fairy didn't go as planned. The poor girl only bowed at him, asked him if he wanted something to drink and offered him to go in a secluded space with her, all questions that made Brian wince and decline in the more polite way he could think of. His attempt to explain to her that he was a member of the MRP fell on deaf ears, and the fairy left a moment later to follow a man in his fifties who snapped his fingers at her. Brian slumped on a chair near the counter, defeated.

“Not the result you wanted, do you?” asked the bartender, who dumped a glass of some yellow liquid before Brian. The curly haired man took the glass without much thought, drinking the entire content in one go. He grimaced at the taste, but swallowed dutifully. 

“No, not at all. It seems like they don't want to be helped” he muttered, looking up at the man. He too was a mythical, the small scales on this neck and temples giving his dragon's nature away. The man shrugged. 

“Maybe they don't trust you” he offered as greeting, moving at another side of the counter to serve other patrons. Brian sighed, the dragon was right. What kind of certainty could Brian offer them, anyway? Only that the association would do its best. Big fucking deal, that was. 

Brian crossed his arms over the counter and rested his cheek on them. He let his eyes wander the room, too dejected to stand up again. He wasn't having fun, and neither being useful. He ought to go home soon, he wasn't needed anyway. Even Freddie had ditched him and his pit of depressing opinions to chat up the attractive dancer of earlier. Brian took a moment to look at the human on the stage and had to conclude that Freddie was right, the man was gorgeous. He couldn't see his face very well in the dim lights, but the lean body and long blond hair were not bad, even from the distance. It was strange to not see some kind of wings attached to the back, but Brian figured that humans could be attractive too, even if it wasn't as common as fairies.

He moved on from Freddie and his companion and looked at the other guests, head still comfortably leaned against the counter. A rich man with a suit who was enjoying a 'private' dance, another rich man looking at the stage, a rich woman drinking from a champagne flute, a fairy, a rich man, another rich man, a pixie, a rich man...

Wait a second.

Brian stood up straight, and turned his head to have a better look. He wasn't wrong. Seated at the counter, in the darker side of the room, was the pixie. The one of the bar, the one with the false documents. John Deacon. The pixie was nursing his drink, while amiably chatting with the dragon bartender. Brian couldn't believe his luck, he found him! And he was exactly where Brian knew he would find him: in a place mostly illegal, to do god knows what. Maybe he was claimed by Foster too? But if he was, why he was free to carry a false ID? There was something filthy in that story, and Brian wanted to know. He stood up on slightly shaking legs – he didn't drank much, but for him it was more than enough – and approached the pixie for the second time in the same day.

While heading toward the pixie, Brian noticed some other details that where suspicious at their best: for one, the pixie was dressed as a regular human, instead as like all the mythical beings which worked at EMI's. He had a good looking white buttoned up, not particularly expensive but well maintained, and simple dark jeans. He wasn't wearing any make up, and his hair were carefully combed to hide his pointy ears entirely. If Brian didn't know, he could pass easily as a simple human guest.

Brian stumbled over him and took a seat on the nearby chair. Both the pixie and the dragon turned to him, and the pixie rolled his eyes.

“Unbelievable” Deacon muttered darkly. Brian, recovered his stability, leaned into the pixie's personal space. 

“I _know_ you are a pixie!” he exclaimed, a bit too loudly even for himself. The pixie quickly looked around and placed an hand over Brian's mouth. 

“S_hut up_, you idiot! What the hell are you doing here?” he whispered angrily. Brian slapped the offending hand away. 

“I'm trying to help, but nobody wants to be helped” he whined, slumping again against the counter. The dragon chuckled, while Deacon only sighed. 

“Are you drunk?” the pixie asked, resigned. Brian took a moment to answer the question. He wasn't drunk, no. Maybe a bit on the tipsy side. 

“No, just... buzzed” he offered to an increasingly annoyed pixie. John shrugged. 

“Okay then. You're with someone?” he inquired, and Brian nodded. 

“Cool. Wait here for them to collect you” the pixie said flatly, and made to stand up. Brian couldn't bear the idea to lose him again, and gripped his arm tightly. Deacon only raised an eyebrow. 

“You can't go! You're in danger” Brian blurted out without finesse. The pixie's other eyebrow reached the first. 

“You could be claimed. Or turned to... to the police if... your document. Found” Brian articulated, he was feeling tired. The pixie's expression softened. 

“You shouldn't worry about me when you are three seconds from collapsing” he commented, but didn't leave. Instead he took Brian by the armpits and dragged him to a nearby couch. Brian melted into the soft cushions in an instant. Someone, probably the pixie, handed him a glass of what Brian discovered was fresh water and he drank quickly. After some moments, he felt way better than before, his eyesight immediately turning sharp and senses alert. It was a great sensation, he felt like he was at the top of the world. 

“What the hell did you give him?” 

The pixie annoyed voice catching his attention, Brian turned to the two mythicals in front of him. The pixie was frowning at the bartender.   
“Just some AmE, to get him back on his feet” the dragon shrugged unconcerned. Brian knew that name. It was one of the drugs in his association's list. Did they drug him?

“Fucking fabulous” Deacon mumbled. Brian, in all his highness glory, made a terrified squawk. 

“Did you drug me?” he cried out, only to have the pixie slapping a hand on his mouth, again. Deacon's red-brown hair made a curtain that covered Brian's field of vision. 

“Ssh, it's okay. Tomorrow you're going to be fine” the pixie cooed, trying to quiet the frightened man. The ruckus had alerted the other guests in the room, Freddie not excluded. The dark haired man approached the couch, surprised to see his tall friend in the middle of action for once in his life. 

“Brian dear? Are you high?” he asked, crouching before his friend and seeing the unnaturally large pupils, the black nearly drowning the hazel irises. Brian nodded vigorously.

“Fred, it's him! The pixie, the one with the false doc...” 

The pixie hand was again on his mouth, this time accompanied with a resounding slap.

“Shut up!” Deacon hissed alarmed. Brian, understanding that shouting about forgery in the middle of a crowded room was not in the pixie's best interest, only nodded, giving Deacon a thumb up. The pixie rolled his eyes, but released his face. 

“You're an unowned pixie?” Freddie inquired, interested. The dragon took a sharp intake of breath. 

“Unowned?” he hissed, eyes already darting the room. If for finding the nearest exit or to alert the boss of the place, Brian didn't know. The pixie, however, didn't seem worried. Just fed up with everyone. 

“No, I'm not. I have an owner, and he's here tonight” he drawled. Then scowled at the dragon.

“Don't you have work to do?” he asked sharply, and the bartender scurried away a second later with a frown. The pixie sighed and flopped down on the couch beside Brian. 

“You have an owner? And he lets you go around alone?” Brian asked, feeling confused. It was an unique situation for him, not having ever found a human that let his mythical leaving his sight before now. 

“Yeah, he does”. The pixie didn't elaborate further, and Brian didn't feel like pressing for an answer, despite being as curious as a monkey. It turned out he didn't need to, giving that Freddie was more than curios himself, and didn't have Brian's self-restraint.

“Really? Isn't him worried you'll run away?” Freddie questioned, and Brian couldn't agree more. Deacon's lips turned up in a small smile. 

“Nah, he isn't. I already ran once, directly in his arms. Besides, I would never run away, not from him”. He seemed so sure in his statement that Brian was at a loss of words. The bond between this pixie and his owner seemed a lot more than a simple master-slave relationship. 

“He's good to you?” Freddie enquired, and the pixie let out a chuckle. 

“Yeah, he is. Too much sometimes” he answered, and the honest glimpse of his eyes melted Brian's heart. Still...

“This place is dangerous, though. Why would him bring you here?” Brian asked, glancing at the pixie. Deacon's smile turned sheepish. 

“Well... let's say he doesn't exactly know where I am” he confessed, and the amused crinkle of his eyes gave his pixie's nature away. They were known to be quite the troublemakers. Freddie chuckled. 

“The poor guy. You gonna give him a fright” Freddie smirked. Deacon laughed.

“Too bad, he's the one adamant to say he loves me nonetheless” the pixie remarked lightly. “Besides, I just don't have to get caught”. 

Those could have very well been the 'last famous words'. The pixie had just finished speaking that a large, meaty hand landed on his shoulder.   
“Look if this isn't the famous 'John Deacon' himself” someone said. John froze on the spot. Brian raised his head only to find the unpleasant face of Ray Foster.

“So? Did you get bored at home, all alone, and decided to join the fun people? Ah?” 

John, very wisely in Brian's opinion, didn't raise to the bait, even if it was clear to everyone that he was seething. Brian didn't know the connection between Foster and the pixie, but surely it couldn't be good given Deacon's reaction. Also, the sneer of Foster's tone and his lack of respect for the pixie's personal space was irking Brian, and even Freddie was affected, he could tell by the scowl marring his pretty features. Freddie moved closer to the pixie, probably in his defence, but it turned out that Deacon knew how to take care of himself. He carefully disentangled from Foster's harassing limbs and took several steps back, to be out of his way. Foster demeanour darkened.

“My owner doesn't like other people to touch me. Sir.” John spoke coldly, readjusting his shirt that had ridden a bit up his torso. Foster's eyes followed the movement with a leer.   
“Doesn't him, hm? I already told him to the point of exasperation how _stupid_ I think he is, having something like you and not using it at his best capacity” he commented, without looking away from the pixie. Brian bristled, he didn't like Foster's attitude. John, probably used to the degrading talk, didn't react. 

“Still, you could help him, and myself, out. Why don't you entertain your new friends?” Foster proposed, while gesturing to Brian and Freddie. The pixie went red at the suggestion, from anger and shame both. Freddie cleared his throat pointedly, and Brian quickly elbowed him in the ribs. He was sure that Freddie wanted to say something to help, but he had early learned from experience to never trust what could come out from Freddie's mouth. His friend sent him a dark glare, but Brian could live with that. He turned his attention back to the heated dialogue near them. 

“I'm not one of your _workers_, Sir. Also, my owner doesn't force me to serve even himself, let alone anyone else” John was trying really hard not to growl at the too smug man. Foster tutted. 

“I'm sure of that” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words. “However, if you'll decide to let your infinite pride go, I'm sure he'll be grateful. I mean, if you're not going to do it, _he'll_ have to”. 

The pixie's paled at that, and with good reason. Brian knew that the wording of Foster held a double blade. If John refused, it was automatically saying that he didn't want to make is owner grateful, which was pretty bad for an owned mythical. However, accepting Foster's suggestion would mean not just have to 'entertain' both Freddie and himself, but also going  _against_ his owner desire. There was no right answer to that question. Brian glared at Foster for that gratuitous display of cruelty. 

John was stalling, eyes darting the room probably in search of his master. Foster taunted him, expecting an answer, and Brian didn't know what to do. Freddie began walking toward the two, with the clear intention of placing himself between the ashen pixie and his tormentor, but to do what? They couldn't answer for him.

Suddenly two hands placed themselves on John's shoulders, gently pulling him back, and the pixie relaxed immediately at the soft touch. Brian heard a raspy growl.

“What the hell's going on here?” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pixie's owner comes to the rescue. Freddie plays hero and Brian gains a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Here the third chapter! 
> 
> I want to thank everyone who commented, left kudos or only read this story so far. It makes me so happy to see that someone likes this universe :) 
> 
> let's pick up from where the last chapter ends... with a blond haired guy that I'm sure everyone was waiting for xD

“_What the hell's going on here?” _

Brian watched, dumbfounded, at the new actor on the play. The long limbs, blond hair and mesmerising blue eyes left him breathless. Freddie squealed beside him.

“Oh my, he's the gorgeous dancer!” he trilled, excited. And true to his words, the blond was dressed in the shorts and skimpy tank top that every dancer in the room was wearing, but without the collar. He was frowning up at Foster, while keeping John behind his body even if he was slightly shorter than the pixie. He looked angered.

“Well?” he urged, and Brian couldn't miss the amused grin on the pixie face. It was clearly an usual situation for the trio, giving the relaxed demeanour of Deacon. Foster scoffed.

“_Your_ pixie was talking back to his betters. Again” he accused, glancing to John safely tucked behind the blond. That was something Brian had yet to see, a mythical owned by a night club dancer, who wasn't obliged to do the same. Bloody absurd. The blond rolled his eyes.   
“I would ask what did you told him first, but it would be a conversation for preschoolers” the blond huffed, crossing his arms. He turned slightly to the pixie and smiled softly at him. John answered with a sly smirk.  
Foster, feeling he was loosing the upper hand, sneered.

“You should teach it some manners, Taylor, before someone else takes the initiative” he threatened. The blond turned to him in a heartbeat.

“_You_ leave to _me_ how I should treat my pixie, Foster! He's way better than any of you anyway” he remarked, sneaking an arm around John waist. The pixie looked smug, and even chanced a wiggle of his eyebrows to the enraged Foster. Freddie giggled. The blond turned to John then, and looked him up and down.

“You okay Deaky?” he asked urgently. John rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Yeah, I'm fine. You arrived when things were going to shit, as usual” he breathed out, caressing the blond's cheek sweetly. Brian looked between the cute couple and the fuming club's manager, still baffled. He didn't understand the dynamics, but he wasn't sure that things were finished just like that. And he wasn't wrong, because Foster took a step forward.

“That useless piece of trash refused to execute an order of an human, you should punish him” he went on. By now a lot of bystanders were looking, interested, at the show. Someone agreed with Foster, even suggesting public punishments that made Brian's blood run cold.

“Sure think, Foster. Maybe when it will snow. Oh, wait, that won't happen any more” the blond answered mockingly, making the patrons laugh loud. Even Brian let an amused smile turn up his lips. However, as funny as the blond was, he wasn't sure that that was a wise way to resolve the situation. Foster growled low.

“If you're pixie isn't going to serve the clients, is better for you to go back to work” he snarled, and accompanied the crude words with an eloquent gesture of his hand. Brian noticed how John demeanour immediately turned from relaxed and relieved to a sad sort of resignation. The blond just nodded.

“Yeah, in a moment” he answered over his shoulder, still facing the pixie and with his back to Foster. He turned a stern glance over John.

“What the hell are you doing here? It's dangerous” he whispered hotly to the pixie. Brian found himself nodding, it was his thought exactly. John stiffened.

“I didn't want to stay home all night. And I missed you” he mumbled back, looking at the blond from behind his eyelashes. The other just huffed.

“Taylor, now!” Foster interjected. Brian sent a deadly glare to the man, which went unnoticed, while the blond answered with an impatient gesture.

“Just go home, Deaky, please” he prayed the pixie, who still held an uncertain glimpse in his eyes. He probably didn't want to leave his friend in a place like this alone, Brian figured.

“But Rog, it is dangerous for you too. I can't lose you” John confessed in a low mumble. The blond's expression softened.

“I'm going to be fine, as always. You, on the other end, I'm not so sure about, trouble” he remarked, pinching the pixie's cheek and laughing at the affronted look he received. John nodded.  
“All right, I'll wait home” he allowed. Roger looked relieved. In that moment, Foster decided he had waited enough; he took a step forward and gripped Roger's arm.

“If I have to pay you, at least grant me a good service” he grunted. The blond, taken aback, stumbled backwards with a yelp. John growled, and had to restraint himself to not just punch the man. Freddie caught up onto the pixie's desire and was immediately at his side, gently placing an hand on his shoulder to stop him from doing something unacceptable.

“Don't you fucking touch him!” Roger screamed, freeing himself from Foster's grip only to be restrained again, this time by an hand tangled in his hair. The blond hissed at the sharp tug.  
“Behave, Taylor. I'm not surprised you can't teach discipline to your thing if you can't even bother to learn it yourself” Foster tutted with a pleased grin. Freddie, however, removed his hand from the pixie and held both in front of himself, to show the blond that he didn't mean to hurt Deacon. While Foster was engaged in practically auctioning the blond to the better bidder, Brian approached the pixie. John was reeling, red in the face and with his hands tighten into fists.

“That fucking piece of shit. Scum. If I only...” the pixie chanted to himself, eyes trained onto his blond friend – and to think that he was the _owner_. Brian still had trouble to accept that turning of tables. Freddie patted John's arm reassuringly.

“Don't worry, darling, I'll take care of him” he smiled. Then the dark haired man turned to Brian.

“You bring the pixie home” he ordered, and Brian could kiss him for his quick thinking process. Freddie was the best of the two in reacting to highly stressing situations, and he was often able to save Brian's ass when the curly haired man was trapped in his own head. Brian nodded, signalling his approval. Freddie, with a last smile to the pixie, turned to Foster with a confident smirk.

“I'll have him tonight, darling, if it's not too much hassle. I think I have priority, considering that the pixie wasn't available” he chanted, while approaching the man. Foster nodded at him with a sly smile.

“You should, actually. Half the price, for the inconvenience” he agreed easily. Brian could feel the pixie stiffen beside him.

“See, Taylor? If you could see reason and just _use_ your property as you should do, you could spare yourself half the trouble” he sneered to the blond. The boy didn't even bother to reply. Foster shouted for order by the other patrons, which were or complaining or offering a better price for the blond, and shoved him toward Freddie. Roger stumbled, out of balance, but the dark haired man caught him easily in his arms.  
“Hello there” he smiled down. The boy's electric gaze looked up at him, half expecting, half frightened. Freddie run his hand into blond locks and neared his mouth to the other's ear.   
“Brian is taking your friend home. He's a member of the MRP, and a big softie. John's in good hands” he reassured him. He felt Roger relax against his body, and allowed himself to smile.  
“Thank goodness” the blond exhaled, melting into the other's embrace, the tension leaving his body. He didn't know a thing about this Freddie, and had no idea of what to expect from the night. But a quick glance over Freddie's shoulder let him see John escorted out of the club by the curly haired man, who was talking to him, but not touching him. Roger knew that Deaky was more than capable to take care of himself if not trapped in a closed and hostile environment. He was going to be fine, and that was all he could ask for.

*

Brian could only listen to the incredible amount of swearing words that were falling from the pixie's lips. To say that John was angry was an understatement, the boy seemed ready to combust.  
“Fucking bastard. Piece of shit. Sgudal. _Cnuimh_.” the pixie went on, and Brian made a confused face.   
“What the hell does sgudal mean, exactly?” he asked, while escorting the pixie out of the club. When he was able to take a breath of fresh air he could relax, the pixie was safe. John grumbled loudly.  
“You don't want to know” he muttered, taking a sharp turn left and walking quickly down the road. Brian hastened to follow.  
“Wait a minute, I have to bring you home!” he exclaimed. He wasn't sure if the pixie, in his altered state, had took a random path. John bristled.  
“Oh, my knight in a shiny armour! This way is home” he answered, peeved. Brian decided to stay silent for the time being, and allow the pixie to cool down. He never had the debatable pleasure to be at the receiving hand of an enraged pixie, and he wasn't eager either. They could be pretty nasty, if the stories he heard were at least half true.

The duo walked in silent, leaving the busier streets in favour of dark alleys, Brian following dutifully the pixie's directions. Soon they reached a tall tenement in the lowest part of the city. Deacon stopped at the front door.  
“This my destination” he sighed. It seemed to Brian that the walk had helped, the pixie now much more calmer. The curly haired man nodded.  
“Well, my task ends here then” he chuckled awkwardly. He wanted to ask the pixie if he was alright. If he needed something, maybe some company... but he didn't know how to formulate the question without offending him. John gave a single nod.  
“So it seems” he agreed. Brian took the curt reply as his cue to leave. However, he didn't go far. He had just turned his back to the pixie that he heard another sigh.  
“Hey... thank you. For tonight” John said, quietly. Brian turned to face him.  
“You don't need to thank me, I'm glad I could help” Brian answered with a smile. The pixie's lips turned upward. They looked at each other for a moment, before John gained enough strength to take the initiative.  
“Would you like a cup of tea?”. Brian smile widened.  
“Yeah, I'd like that”.

The flat was small, but tidy and surprisingly cosy. It was a single room with a kitchenette on the left, a tiny couch that had seen better days on the right and a coffee table who missed a leg in the middle of the room. Brian noticed a door on the further wall, which he figured leaded to the bedroom. The pixie removed his jacket and took Brian's coat for him.  
“It's not much, but it's home” he joked. However, Brian couldn't miss the fondness in his eyes at seeing what he could assume was the pixie's safe heaven. Deacon gestured to the couch.  
“Take a seat. I'll ask you which blend you prefer if I had more than the regular Early Gray” he commented, already stepping by the kitchenette. Brian huffed a laugh, amused. The pixie had completely changed personality after entering the flat. It was great to see him this relaxed and carefree.  
“Early Gray is more than fine” he assured the boy. John nodded to himself, putting the kettle on. Brian took the occasion to lean his pounding head on the backrest. He had dismissed the effects of the drug the dragon gave him till now, because he had more important thing to attend to. However that didn't mean he wasn't feeling like shit. The pixie noticed, and snorted.  
“Tea helps. I'm sorry I didn't stop him, I wasn't expecting it” he apologised. Brian gestured dismissively, he didn't blame the pixie. Luckily he only took a sip. God knows how he would have felt if he had drank the entire glass. Bloody terrifying, that was.  
John soon handed him a cup of hot tea, and Brian drank greedily. The pixie was right, he already felt better. John sat cross-legged on the only chair in the room, opting to give Brian some space, and took a sip from his own cup. That too was unusual, seeing a mythical being using furnitures like it was a common occurrence. Probably for John it was, giving how his blond owner treated him. This gave raise to another question, though.  
“Sorry for my boldness, but... if you're owned, why the false ID?” Brian questioned, and immediately saw the pixie stiffening. He didn't want to ruin the good atmosphere, and hastened to add a “there's no need for you to answering, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable”. John, understanding that he wasn't being interrogated, let out a short laugh.  
“You surely are curious, for a human” he commented. Brian blushed sightly, but couldn't deny it. John smirked.  
“If I have to answer a question, it is only fair for you to do the same. What do you think, curlicue?” he mocked. Brian thought it was fair, really, even if stories teach us to never say anything about yourself to a pixie. He nodded, to an increasingly satisfied Deacon.  
“Very well, then. I'll have to think carefully about what I want to know about you” John began, looking thoughtful. Brian tried not to show his uneasiness at the way the pixie was holding himself. He chastised himself when the thought of Rumpelstiltskin popped out in his mind, that was plainly ridiculous. John seemed to have read his thoughts, because he smirked darkly.  
“Don't worry, I won't ask you your firstborn. Not even for you to guess my name” he intoned, amused. Brian made a confused sound.  
“I already know your name” he contradicted, with a frown. Or didn't him. The pixie grinned.  
“How I love you humans, never once questioning the obvious” he chanted. Brian swallowed, rethinking in that moment all of his life choices.  
“To answer your question... well. I've seen a fair lot of mythical beings claimed by someone different than their owners, if found alone” John began, with a sad look. Brian nodded, he had too, sadly. “Roger didn't want to take the risk, and neither wanted to keep me locked inside the flat or always at his side. So, he pulled some favours and brought me this” the pixie get out from his pocket his false ID, looking at it absently.  
“That's thoughtful of him, not to mention dangerous for you both” Brian argued. This Roger guy had gone far to make the pixie as free as he could get in their world, and Brian admired him for that. Still, it could go so much worse if they got caught.  
“Yeah, Rog is pretty reckless. His values are to live at the very best, not thinking about what could go wrong. Can you blame him?” John said with fondness. Brian nodded, he couldn't, not really.  
“I get that not much had gone as wrong as it could get, am I right?” Brian commented, to lighten the mood a bit. John sighed.  
“Since I know him? No, it didn't. Before? I'm still trying to forget” he confessed with a low whisper. Brian's heart clenched. The pixie looked so young in that moment, with his unruly hair and absent eyes, mind lost on sad memories of the past. Brian felt the desire to hug him tightly and never let go. The dismal moment was quickly interrupted, with Deacon straightening in his chair.  
“Now, what to ask from you, Mr. Brian” he singsonged, and the curly haired man suddenly remembered his deal with the devil. A pretty attractive devil, he was, but one nonetheless.  
“Hum... whatever you feel like knowing?” he offered meekly. He wasn't a very interesting person, per se, and had held a somewhat peaceful life till that moment. No skeletons in the closet, or sad things happening to him. All in all, he was pretty sure that he had nothing to satisfy the pixie's interest. John eyes lightened up.  
“You said you're a member of the MRP, don't you?”. At Brian's nod, he smiled.  
“Tell me what it's like”.

*

When Roger opened the door of his flat he found the two still talking amiably, cups of tea empty and long forgotten. Brian had told the pixie everything he remembered about the MRP. How it was organised, the services they could provide, the mythical beings they helped... John was listening with rapture, occasionally asking a question or demanding a deeper explanation. At the mention of the fairy that was in charge of the black listing, his eyes had lightened up. Brian then had offered him to join them, if he would like to help. They were an open organisation, a work environment that accepted humans and mythicals both. The pixie had nodded at that, but didn't said anything. Brian didn't want to press the matter, but inside he hoped that the pixie would take the offer.  
The two turned their heads at the sound of the door, and Roger smiled warmly.  
“Lost track of time?” he asked, closing the door behind him. He gestured to Brian to stay seated, the curly man already apologising for having intruded for so long.  
“No need to, you're Deaky's guest. Stay for as long as you want” the blond assured, moving to the kitchenette and ruffling the pixie's hair as he passed. John rolled his eyes, batting the offending hand away.  
“There's hot water in the kettle” John announced. Roger smiled behind his shoulder.  
“You're an angel, but I'll go with a beer” he remarked, opening the small fridge to pull out a can. The pixie snorted.  
“Go figure” he commented, to the blond's amusement.  
Brian smiled fondly at the two. To be honest, until that moment he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the pixie to slide down the chair and to the floor at his owner presence. However, now he was sure that the easy banter of the two wasn't in any way an act. They weren't pretending, the bond within the two was clear to everyone looking.  
Brian found his eyes inescapably glued to the blond's body. He was really a sight for sore eyes, with the messy hair and bright red lips. He chanced a glance to the pixie, to find his dark eyes fixed on Roger too, the blond boy unaware of how his presence had changed the easy-going atmosphere of before. Brian tried to get on track his train of thoughts.  
“So, I offered John to join the MRP” he blurted out. The pixie's eyes darted to him in a second. Roger turned, surprised.  
“Really? You'd like it, Deaks?” he asked the pixie, who had stayed silent. John looked up at him.  
“I... you'd like it?” he asked back, and for the first time in the entire evening he seemed unsure. Roger smile softly.  
“It's not my decision to make” he reassured the pixie, crouching beside the chair and placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Remember? Smart, beautiful and...?” John huffed out a laugh.  
“...free. I'm smart, beautiful and free” he repeated, low. Roger smiled like a prideful parent.  
“That's my boy” he exclaimed, caressing John's hand. He then stood up.  
“Now, if you gents will excuse me, I'll head to bed. I'm knackered” the blond said, stretching his arms upon his head for good measure. Brian's eyes found the small slit of pale skin revealed and he swallowed on nothing. John looked at him suspiciously.  
“Hum, sure, I mean... I should go...” Brian rambled, trying to stop his traitor brain which was conjuring too many indecent thoughts about the blond in _bed._ Roger took a small step in his direction and held out his hand.   
“Are you joking? As I said, you're free to stay as long as you like. Hell, I should offer you a beer as a thank you for tonight, really” the blond said friendly, “Alas, I feel my eyelids dropping. Maybe another time?” he proposed. Brian, who by now had flopped down on the couch again, found himself nodding.  
“Sure thing, maybe with Freddie too... oh” he remembered that his dark haired friend was missing.  
“Do you know if he went home?” Brian asked the blond. Roger hummed.  
“Mmh, yeah. He left a bit earlier than me” he answered, with a slight blush on his cheeks. God, he was adorable. Brian struggled to look away from the blond's half-open shirt and back to his eyes. Roger noticed, and smirked.  
“Well, it was great to met you...” he began, and Brian realised that they never introduced themselves. He shook the blond's hand.  
“Brian. Brian May”. The blond smiled.  
“Roger Taylor” he said, even if it wasn't necessary. Brian knew he could never forget that name, or that face. Roger moved to the bedroom.  
“Have a nice evening, then. Or morning” he bid them as a creative goodnight, sending a flying kiss to John. The pixie jokingly gestured with his hand as to mimic he had batted it away. Roger pouted at him, and John laughed.  
“Remember to lock the door before coming to bed” the blond reminded him. The pixie huffed.  
“I'm not the one who usually forgets to” John remarked.  
“Fair enough” the blond conceded, unconcerned. He waved one last time at the two and disappeared in the other room.

Brian looked at the place in which the blond was just a second ago, lost in thought. He had never felt a so strong physical attraction to another being before now, and it left him baffled. If it were not that Roger was undoubtedly human, he would have thought of an incubus's descendant. When he turned back to John, the pixie held a dark look in his grey-green eyes. Brian cringed, had he offended him?  
“Roger looked at you and saw a friend, for me and for him both. He doesn't need another human leering at him at every given moment” John said coldly. Brian flushed, ashamed.  
“I-I wasn't... I didn't...” he stammered. Deacon's gaze didn't faltered and Brian sighed, defeated.  
“I'm sorry, I'll not do it again. I'll try, at least” he promised. The pixie relaxed back.  
“I'm okay with your oath to try, he's quite irresistible. And he knows it” he shrugged. Brian felt like there was a story behind that statement, but didn't want to pry. Instead, he took a page of his notebook and scribbled an address in it, handing it to John.  
“Here's the association address. Feel free to come whenever you'll like” he said. The pixie took it tentatively, and their fingers brushed.  
“Thank you. I think I will”.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mythical's Rights Patrol gets a new member. Brian obtains some answers, that lead to more questions than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
Fourth chapter comes earlier (and from now on updates will be on Saturdays :))! 
> 
> Now that all our main characters are being introduced... let's learn a bit more about the MRP (and a bit more...).
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented/left kudos! Can you leave me a feedback if you are liking this thing? 
> 
> Well, enough of me! On with the story!

The morning after found Brian in a hast on his way to the association building. He had gone home far later than he was used too, and consequently he woke up late, missing his morning alarm.  
He was surprised to see two familiar silhouettes standing on the pavement, near the MRP's front door.  
“John, Roger! It's great to see you” he greeted the duo. Roger gave a small wave.  
“Hey Brian! I insisted to enter, but Deaky was adamant in waiting for you...” the blond confessed, sending a cheeky grin to his companion. The pixie huffed, unamused, but Brian's heart melted at the show of trust. He smiled warmly and opened the door.  
“Well then, let me welcome you to the MRP headquarter” he proclaimed, ushering the two inside.

Their headquarter wasn't exactly fancy. No glass-walls or bright white floors, and no neon lights that makes all seem rich, and a bit aseptic (at least in Brian's opinion). It was all pretty home made, with brown desks all in different kind of woods and mostly plastic chairs stolen by the members garden sets. It showed the exact amount of power that the association held, and it was nearly none. However, Brian was prideful even at the little that they had. In those walls there was a lot of good being done, everyday. And he was happy to welcome another member in their ranks – or, hopefully, _two_ more. John looked inside curiously, and flashed a bright smile at the dwarf at the reception.  
“Hello Grey. This is our new member” Brian greeted him. The dwarf harrumphed, studying the two visitors closely.  
“It's good for affairs, new people. We didn't have a pixie yet. Good for affairs, yes” he mumbled to himself, and Brian let out a small chuckle. True to the stories, dwarfs were as greedy as magpies, and just as stingy. No wonder Gray was their appointed treasurer, he was the man for the job.  
“You want to fill in the module first, or maybe have a tour? I can explain you better what we do here” Brian proposed, not wanting to overwhelm the pixie. John nodded at the suggestion, turning to Roger.  
“You mind having a tour?” he asked, and Roger shook his head with a smile. His bright blue eyes were covered by a pair of sunglasses, and Brian found strange he didn't bother to take them off inside.  
“Not at all, I like it here” the blond exclaimed, looking around some more. There were already a lot of people walking around the place, some holding papers, some other just chatting. It was a friendly environment, and the fact that humans and mythicals were behaving as equals was something Roger appreciated. Brian smiled at the two.  
“Okay then. Gray, can you let us in?”. There were barriers at the entrance, something that Brian didn't like but it was sadly necessary. Not a lot of people, mostly humans, liked what they did at the MRP, and sometimes happened that humans tried to enter and claim a mythical worker. They took all kind of precautions, but it was a still real threat. The dwarf let Brian, and then John, pass without a word, but stopped Roger on the spot.  
“You're joining too, pretty boy?” he grumbled to the startled blond. Brian was alarmed, until he saw the laughter that the pixie was desperately trying to suppress, without success. Roger swallowed.  
“Hum, not really, I... am here for moral support?” he offered sheepishly. The dwarf harrumphed again.  
“I see. We'll wait for you too, pretty boy”. At that John laughed loud, and Brian couldn't stop a few giggles at the slight threat that Gray's words seemed to held. Roger made a face but, wisely, kept his mouth shut.

Brian showed them the entire premises, starting by the main room. He introduced John to the members and found that the pixie, while a bit distrustful towards the humans, got on well with all the mythical beings he met. He then brought the two in the IT room, in which they had two pretty old computers and a printer. He explained they were trying to find the founds to buy something more modern and fast but, alas, the few money they had were used to help the mythicals out of cruel humans' clutches. Roger nodded approvingly at that, but the pixie was watching the computer with a considering look. Brian resolved to ask him about it later, and moved their small group forward.  
He showed them the canteen, that was small and contained only tables and chair given that they weren't so rich to have a cafeteria or a catering service. However he explained to John that he was free to join them on breakfast and lunch, at any moment. When the pixie turned to his master Roger was quick to assure him that they would buy a few Tupperware and easily transportable food that very afternoon, if John wanted too. The pixie looked ready to kiss the blond right in the middle of the room, but restrained himself for privacy sake. Brian didn't comment, but was increasingly delighted by the easy way Roger treated John. Nothing was granted as a concession, even if they, in fact, were. But it seemed that for Roger the pixie was his equal, in any situation. It there were more humans like him, Brian was sure, the world would have been a better place.

Then they moved to the archive. It was by far the largest room in the premises, and with good reason. They had filled a form for every mythical being they had the occasion to speak too, with their generalities and the ones of their owners. They added a blue stitch for the ones freed, or under the care of a human in their good list, an orange one for the ones still in need of help. Easy to say, the orange stitches were by far the most in the room. John looked sad at it, but resigned. Everyone knew the truth, and the pixie didn't live under a rock. Still it was painful to see, and he was ready to do his part. Enough with hiding and trying to get away with it.  
Brian showed them the famous 'lists', that were held too in the archive. Roger was fairly impressed by the amount of things the association felt the need to catalogue; there was a human black list, a mythical beings black list, a drugs black list, a places black list... the white lists were less, but still a good numbers. For him, it was quite silly to try and place everything in a category, but he didn't dare to criticise. If John was happy, Roger would keep his mouth shut and go with the flow. At the mention of the 'humans white list', however, he had to ask for clarifications.  
“What's that for?” he inquired to their curly guide. Brian coughed.  
“Hum, it's for... humans that can take mythical beings and treat them good. It's to give them an owner, so to be safe, but even give them a different life. Like is for John with you” Brian elaborated. Roger raised an eyebrow, impressed.  
“I didn't know you also did this kind of service. The MRP is a real blessing” he commented sincerely. Brian smiled at that.  
“If you'd like to, I can write your name on the top. 'People to take example from'” he proposed, only half-joking. Roger chuckled, smiling softly at John. The pixie was currently engaged in asking the poor woman responsible of the archive all kind of questions he could come up with.  
“He didn't deserve what he went through. What I can do to make him happy... I will” he whispered, and Brian could tell that the blond had made a oath. If only with himself, or to the pixie too, the curly haired man didn't know.

In that moment John trotted to them, a smile brightening his face, and the moment ended. Brian had just one last place to show them, but he was sure it will be appreciated.  
“Okay, and this last door takes into... the library”.  
He was quite prideful about their library. It was wide, and full to the brim with books of all genres. There were novels, of course, but most of them were essays about whatever matter they were able to collect. There was a large scientific section, in which Brian often spent time to read about space and astronomy. There were also books about medicine, chemistry, biology and engineering. Then a pretty good selection on other matters, like psychology, law, economics, history, geography and arts. Also, there was some tomes about the history of mythical beings, and legends of their world. All in all, it was a good assortment.  
John eyes widened and he looked around, awed.  
“My god... can I read all of them?” he asked Brian, starred-eyed. The curly haired man chuckled.  
“Of course, they are all available for members” he answered, happy to see the pixie so enthusiastic about it. He had worried for a moment that the pixie couldn't read, it was common for mythical beings that were not allowed in public schools. However, for what he could tell until now, he was sure that someone had taught him. Probably Roger. John, definitely happy for the response, turned to the blond.  
“Did you hear? I can read _all_ of them!” he repeated, excited. Roger let out a laugh.  
“You'll need an entire _life_ for that” he joked smoothly, while winking at Brian behind his sunglasses. John huffed.  
“Let's make a bet out of this: three years” he proposed, with a slight smirk. Roger huffed.  
“I will _never_ make a bet with you again, you cheater” he grumbled, making John giggle loudly. The pixie didn't reply, opting for rushing at the first row of books to take a look at the titles. Brian walked near the blond.  
“Cheater?” he asked, amused. John did seem the type, to be honest. Roger shook his head.  
“Pixie. It's like a synonymous” he said back, without missing a beat.

Brian introduced John and Roger to the elf in charge of the library. The icy creature gave both a nod, telling them that they were free to roam the library, but to please keep the volume down. Roger turned to John then, smirking.  
“Let's make a bet out of this, will you?” he bantered. John smirked back.  
“Deal. Ice cream?” he said, holding out his hand. Roger shook it with decision. The pixie then began his walk, with the two humans trailing behind.  
“I just saved your elf's sanity, by the way” the blond commented, his eyes never leaving John. Brian hummed, intrigued.  
“He doesn't seem very loud to me” he answered, looking at the pixie which was moving between rows as silent as a cat.  
“He's not. But he doesn't like orders” the blond elaborated, and Brian took the cue that Roger was serving him on a silver platter and filed it for later use. Never give orders to a pixie. Fair enough to him.  
John had stopped at the scientific section, and was reading the titles with interest. He took one book from the shelf with a pensive smile.  
“Rog, look! It's the book you used to teach me reading on” he whispered to the blond. Roger approached him and sighed.  
“Oh yeah. Must be in the flat somewhere” he agreed, he too with a faraway look. Brian got near, curious. It was a biology text, on parasitology. John handed the book to Roger and went to another section, with the excitement of a child in an amusement park, and Brian took the opportunity to talk to the blond.  
“You're interested in biology?” he asked, hopeful. If the blond was interested in science they could bond on that. Roger nodded.  
“I used to study it. At university” he answered absent-mindedly. He looked a bit more at the text, lost in thought. Then he seemed to shook himself out of his daze and he put the book back in his place.  
“Was a long time ago, though” he finished curtly. Brian was at a loss. Roger went to university? Then way the hell was him working at EMI's?  
“You're graduated in biology?” Brian asked, to not end the conversation. If Roger had a degree they could help him find another, better paid and less degrading, job. Even if it was difficult for a sexual worker to find a job in the 'respectable' community, Brian had some friends in the science circuit that owed him a favour. Roger huffed.  
“I lack three exams and a thesis for that” he answered with an unconvincing laugh. Brian swallowed what he meant to say. He could tell that the matter made the blond uncomfortable, and that was the last thing he wanted. Luckily the impasse was resolved for him by John, the pixie returning to them with another book in his hands.  
“There's a whole row of books on engineering!” he proclaimed, shoving the text he had in hand practically on Roger's face. Brian smiled.  
“The library policy is that you can take five books and keep them for a month” he winked to the pixie. John took a sharp intake of breath.  
“Really? _Five_?” he repeated, awed. Brian nodded and Roger chuckled.  
“Come on, go crazy” he gave his blessing. John took the suggestion at heart, and went back scanning the rows. Brian had never felt so proud of their library before now.

John had his fair half an hour of struggling in choosing the five books he wanted first, but at Brian's reassurance that he could take more whenever he liked, he settled with five heavy looking tomes on electric circuits and wires. Roger had just shook his head in amusement at that, and Brian figured it was a known interest of the pixie. He filed away that information too, that could be useful.  
They went back to the front desk to endure the borrowing procedure. The elf made a bit of a fuss about John not being a member yet, but at the end he relented. Elves were stubborn creatures, but no one could beat the stubbornness of pixies.  
While the elf was occupied in scanning the books, John focused Roger's attention, and by inference Brian's, to one of the books in the reading table.  
“What's the City of Music?”  
Brian and Roger answered at the same time.  
“A myth”  
“A faraway place”  
They shared a confused look. Roger was the first one to speak.  
“You don't believe in it?” he asked curiously. Brian shook his mane of curls.  
“Of course not. As all the legends recorded in that book, it's just a dream” he said with conviction. He had to talk Freddie out of 'departing' to search it at least once a month. However, there were no indication, no evidence and no one living being that ever reached the famous City. It was a great belief, sure, but one for children. The pixie looked interested.  
“There are other legends in the book?” he asked, placing an hand on the cover. The leather was soft to the touch, and worn out at the angles. It surely was an old text, that could contain many mysteries.  
“Oh yes, there's a lot. The Revealing Stone, the Fountain of Youth, the Flower of Desires... even a elven myth about the Suspended City. Alas, they are just stories” Brian replied, opening the book on a random page. It shown a picture of a golden flower, with twenty-one petals. John touched the page with his fingertips.  
“Is this the Flower of Desires?” he asked, with slight trepidation. Brian went to answer, just to discover that the pixie had addressed the question to Roger instead. The blond gazed at the page and immediately looked away.  
“Yeah, it's that” he answered shortly. Brian, confused, went to elaborate for the pixie.  
“It's a myth of the middle lands. They say that it can give you anything you desire, if it's comes from heart” he explained. He remembered how he used to dream about finding the flower, and asking it to change the world he lived in. He had even choose the wording. 'Understanding between all beings in the world'. He chuckled inwardly at his younger, oblivious, self. If one wanted for something in life, he had to work hard to reach it, that was the sad truth. At his words Roger snorted.  
“It's not so simple. For one, the flower can't change completely a situation. For saying, he can't make you a king if you are a farmer. It can only enhance a quality, or a situation, that you already have. For example if you are sick, it can make you healthy again. Only if you are not already dying, though” he explained, with slight annoyance. It seemed a rehearsed speech, and Brian wondered if he wasn't the first one the blond had to educate about the functioning of the flower. And Roger had not finished.  
“Also, if you want it to work you have to eat it. Or you can stay and ask and beg forever, and it would be useless” he completed, crossing his arms. Brian looked at the blond, flabbergasted.  
“You seem to know an awful lot about the flower of desires” he began cautiously. Almost as he had had a close encounter with ... well, that was totally absurd. Roger seemed to think the same, because he rolled his eyes.  
“Is all written in the same book you're holding, genius. Only that no one bothers to read the little notes on the sides, or to translate the old tongue” he said, bending down to show Brian what he meant. To be honest, Brian didn't even noticed the small letters Roger was showing him before now. “That's... fascinating” Brian said, intrigued. Roger gave him a small smile.  
“I had a copy of this book, back home. You're not the only one who dreamt about a desire coming true” he offered with a shrug. Brian nodded, he could relate. And in seeing the sad look on Roger's eyes, he could tell that whatever the blond had wished for, it was lost for good by now.

“Well... shouldn't John fill some papers now?” Roger lightened the mood easily, and Brian took the cue.  
“Sure, let's go to the front desk” he proposed, guiding John thorough the main room, the pixie's visual covered by his newly acquired knowledge. Roger took the books for him with a warm smile.  
“So, you put here your generalities and here the ones of your owner” the girl at the reception said. She was in the same situation as Brian, a good human family and a steady future before her, but a too kind heart to just look away from the horrors of their world. Her name was Chrissie, and Brian had a big fat crush on her some years ago. John nodded, beginning the filling in.  
“Should I put my real name?” he asked Roger lowly. The blond shrugged.  
“Just put the one you feel better with. They're both yours” he offered with an easy smile. The pixie looked thoughtful, but then wrote down 'John Deacon' in steady letters. Brian felt curiosity gnawing at him, but forced himself to keep silent. He didn't know the pixie well enough to just ask about something so personal, so soon. He was sure than, in time, he would be able to earn his trust.  
John finished his part and passed the pen to Roger. The blond went to write his informations, but stopped when it asked about medical insurance.  
“Hum... I don't have medical coverage” he said after a beat. Chrissie's eyes widened.  
“Oh, you don't have a job?” she asked, eyes darting to John immediately, concerned. The pixie stiffened, a small frown on his face.  
“I have two, actually. Just... not the ones that grant you insurances” Roger forced out, a light blush on his cheeks. Brian was ready to step out and say something himself, but Chrissie caught on on her own.  
“Ah, I see. There's a code for that, let me just check” she reassured, pulling out a sheet from the drawer. She told Roger what to write down, and the blond complied, unusually silent. Brian wanted to kick himself in the ribs for not having thought about it sooner. It was clear to him that Roger wasn't proud of what he was doing for a living, and he hated make others feel bad, humans and mythical beings alike. John too was silent, but not from embarrassment. More likely annoyance.  
“All done” Chrissie cheered. She handed John his membership card with a smile.  
“Welcome to the Mythical's Rights Patrol” she announced. John bit his lips to suppress a pleased smile.  
“Thank you” he mumbled. He turned to Brian. “Thank you” he said again, a bit louder. Brian smiled too.  
“I look forward working with you”.

Brian walked the pair at the door, watching them going back home in the sunny weather. John was talking excitedly to Roger, who was still carrying the books. Both relaxed and seemingly carefree.  
It wasn't fair from him, he knew, but Brian desired to be part of that too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time goes by, and friendships consolidate. Freddie and Roger have a pleasurable night on their own, and the former gets some revealing news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! Here I come with the weekly update of this thing. 
> 
> There's my first smutty scene in english in here... I'm quite self-conscious about it, I don't think it turned out well. Hope you'll like it anyway. 
> 
> As always, not native english speaker AND not betaed.

They fall into an easy routine after that. John went to the association every morning, often earlier than Brian himself. They attended to the day's occurrences and have lunch together in the canteen, with sometimes Chrissie joining them. John made good friends with the fairy in charge of the black listing, called Veronica. Ronnie was usual going home for lunch, though, so it was mostly the two of them. Brian enjoyed those secluded moments more than he liked to admit, the pixie was smart and had a dark sense of humour that attracted Brian like a moth on flames. After a demanding afternoon of work, John always left by six to meet Roger at home.

It turned out that the blond had, in fact, two jobs. When he wasn't engaged at the night club, he helped out at a local garage. Obviously, by law, a sexual worker couldn't obtain a contract, so he was working without it and without all its bonuses. The explanation made Brian seething, but Roger was pretty chill about it.

“It's a good arrangement” he explained to Brian once, “he pays me, and doesn't have to hire another worker. It's good money too, and I can't afford to turn my nose to that. Beggars can't be choosers”.  
On Saturdays, when the garage was closed, Roger joined them on lunch, bringing sweets. Brian told him he didn't have to, but the reprimand fell on deaf ears. Everyone in the MRP came to take a liking to Roger, the blond's easy-going attitude and effortless cheeriness lightning the premises like a special, loud, sun, if he baby blues and killer body weren't enough. Even Grey took the habit to wait around for lunch when the blond was to show up, and that was all in itself a miracle, in Brian's book.  
Also, on Saturdays, even Freddie crawled out of his flat to have lunch together, regardless of his nocturne lifestyle. Brian had pondered, in the past, why the hell Freddie had decided to live the life of a vampire, but every time he had asked about it his friend had dismissed him with gesture, offering no explanation. However, Brian noted that when the blond was involved Freddie seldom could refuse his company, even coming to ask when Roger was going to show up at the MRP. Brian also knew that the two had special rendezvous at EMI at least thrice at week, but he didn't inquired nor commented on it. At the end, they gave both Roger and Freddie the honorary membership of the MRP, given the amount of time they parked there.

  
  


It was on one of those lazy Saturdays that the discussion came up for the first time. Brian had just commented about the new royal patrols of the government that John's pointed ears pricked up.

“Another patrol? What for?” he asked, warily. Brian couldn't blame him, it was difficult as it was for the pixie to roam the city, besides his fake ID. Brian shrugged.

“Don't know, really. Mythicals repression?” he proposed, unsure. There were a lot of public force already engaged in that task. Freddie snorted.

“Oh gosh, weren't the old, common troupes enough?” he sighed, dramatically slumping on his chair. Roger giggled at his antics, and John looked amused.

“Actually, I heard that they're here to find someone. A foreign noble or something like that” offered the blond with a shrug. Brian straightened in his chair.

“Are you serious? Could be that elven prince from the north?” he asked, interested. He had heard about the only one country that still resisted the Government. It used to be a Elven kingdom, immersed in one of the most luxuriant forest of their world. By now it was just a place destroyed by wars, in which mythical beings tried to found shelter. The royal prince was often in the news, with his quick thinking process and ability to wipe out the Government army. He was an hero to Brian.

“Don't think so, I gathered they're looking for a woman” Roger added thoughtfully. When nobody spoke, he looked up and saw everyone staring at him.

“What? I didn't hear that much, people don't come to me to _talk_” he specified, peeved. Brian averted his gaze, sheepishly. Roger often shared bits of what he had the occasion to hear at the EMI's, being the place mostly frequented by powerful people. Alas, they weren't there to share their knowledge with Roger, as the blond pointed out. John let out a loud sigh, before turning to Roger.

“Do you mind escorting me here every morning since now on? Just until we understand better how this new patrol works”. It was visible to everyone how that request pained the pixie, it made his situation all the more real. Roger nodded with a soft smile.

“It's no problem at all” he reassured the dejected pixie. John forced a small smile, but relaxed back on Roger shoulder. Freddie huffed.

“We should just leave. Away from this dreadful city, that it's sucking our lives out of us. Take our few belongings and just _go_!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. Brian rolled his eyes, already knowing where that proposal was going.

“Where to?” asked John, the pixies natural curiosity overcoming the rationalism. Roger made a small gesture with his head prompting Freddie to speak out his mind. The dark haired man clapped his hands.

“But to the City of Music, obviously”.

“Obviously” echoed Brian, unimpressed. Freddie turned to him with a dark scowl.

“If you are unfaithful, Brian dear, at least let _us_ dupes make our silly plans” he remarked, moving his chair to give Brian his back and excluding him form their smaller circle. Roger laughed at that, ignoring Brian's glare.

“What's your plan, then?” asked Roger, and Brian couldn't guess if he was just indulging Freddie or if he was actually being serious. Freddie rubbed his hands.

“Well, it's not like we have a map or anything like that. I suggest to just leave, moving from town to town, looking for evidence. However” he rambled on, taking a napkin and fishing a pen out of his skimpy trousers, “I think we should go north east. There the lands are not all discovered yet” he went on, drawing effortlessly a map of their land. Brian leaned closer to take a look, Freddie's art skills were always a pleasure to see. Nonetheless, he wasn't convinced about his plan _at all_. Luckily, he wasn't the only one.

“Let me take it straight: you're plan is to just 'go'?” asked Roger with a grimace. John too didn't look that convinced. Freddie raised his eyebrows at them.

“Let _me_ take it straight: you have a better option?” he bit back without missing a beat. John laughed at that, and Roger covered a small smile behind his hand.

“Yeah, definitely. Stay here, at least until we got better options” he remarked, amused. Brian let out a chuckle at that.

“Here you have it, Fred. Find a better option and I too will think about it” he offered to a slightly offended Freddie. The dark haired man crossed his arms.

“Laugh, you bonkers. When I will found the City, because mind you, _I will_, I won't give any of you even a cue!” he threatened, just to dissolve in breathy giggles, infected by the others laughters.

*

That night, as every Saturday, Freddie found himself in the middle of EMI's Studios dance room. He arrived early, hoping to catch his blond dancer just after the show, however he looked for him in every room without success. He opted for a drink and to take a seat, his gaze glued to the door that leaded upstairs, where were the private chambers. He was getting fairly bored to just sit and wait, when a peculiar discussion caught his attention.

“Any news of the royal pain in the ass?”

Freddie looked discretely behind his shoulder. There were two men, dressed in priced suits, drinking at the table next to his seat. They looked like Government's inspectors.

“Not yet. The girl knows how to disappear, apparently. I think she has connections in the city”. Freddie took a sharp intake of breath. It was what they talked about just at lunch, about the noble foreign. Seemed that Roger was right, they were looking for a woman.

“What for, though? Escaping a marriage? I don't even understand why bother” the first man spoke again. Freddie furrowed his brows, that conversation hitting home a bit to much in his opinion. The second man snorted.

“The Kingdom of Rhye... seems like a quality of the royal princes to fuck up their own country” he commented derisively, and Freddie stilled. Did that mean... the second man was adding something, and the dark haired man elected to listen for every piece of information. Everything could be useful.

“However, the King assured... oh look, that's the blond I talked to you about”.

Freddie turned sharply at that and, true to the man's words, Roger came out from the partially hidden door. The inspectors began to rise from their seats, and Freddie was left in doubt. Should he just stay silent and hidden, running out of the door at the first occasion? Or was he worth the risk? Freddie looked back at Roger, the exhausted blond a bit unsteady on his feet. Oh, who was he kidding, of course Roger was worth all the risks in the world, and more.

Freddie jumped up from the chair and waded effortlessly thorough the crowd, his years of practise helping to beat the men on time. He approached Roger first, the inspectors just behind his field of vision.

“Hello, gorgeous”. Roger turned to him and immediately smiled.

“Freddie!” the blond exclaimed, practically falling into the dark haired man arms. Freddie buried his face into his blond locks just a moment before the men reached them. One of them cleared his throat loudly.

“Excuse me, sir. We had been waiting for him for three hours” he said, and the polite tone didn't make Freddie sympathetic to their cause one bit. Roger tried to turn around, but Freddie held him still against his body.

“Well, sorry you arrived late, then” he answered icily, voice muffled by Roger's shoulder. The blond looked at him confused, but stayed silent.

“Can you at least foresee how much time you'll have him for?” asked the other, and Freddie's insides boiled.

“I'll do better. I plan to steal him _for the rest of night_” he emphasised, while running a possessive hand over the blond's back. Quite bold for him to say, giving that he was nearly broke. Oh, well, he was going to think about it later. Roger breath hitched.

“Fred, what the hell are you _doing_?” he hissed, trying to get a look at his face but failing when Freddie plastered himself on the blond, delighted by the way their warm bodies fitted together like pieces of a puzzle. He chanced a look over the blond's shoulder, just to see the two goons still there.

“Maybe you would be interested in two hours together? All paid by us, of course” the first man proposed with what Freddie could only describe as a filthy grin. He felt Roger tensing in his arms.

“I'm so really sorry, darlings, but I hate to share”. While delivering his last stab with a sweet voice, Freddie took the opportunity to press his leg between Roger's, just to make them even more jealous than what they already were. The blond barely suppressed a moan, and Freddie smirked at the men's expressions. The inspectors left a bit later, their faces painted in annoyance and disappointment, and Freddie felt viciously victorious. When he was sure they were out of sight, he released Roger.

“It's not that I'm not grateful, really. But you don't have to protect me, you know that, right?” the blond commented. The tone was light, but the glare in his eyes pretty much serious. Freddie nodded, he knew that. But how to explain to Roger that every time he saw other men's hands on him he felt like spontaneously combust?

“Rest assured, darling. My actions are dictated by sole selfishness” he remarked, placing his arms on the blond's waist and planting his lips on Roger's in a bruising kiss. He felt a bit bad inside, because that wasn't even a lie. Roger smiled against his mouth.

“If that's so... care to move this upstairs?” the blond proposed, rubbing an hand on Freddie's arm. The dark haired man shivered.

“Darling, I though you'd never ask”.

  
  


When the door closed behind them Freddie shoved Roger against it, connecting their lips again. Roger's mouth was soft and pliant under his ministration, and that was possibly the best turn on in Freddie's book. He rested his hands on Roger's slim waist, moving his half-open shirt aside to graze the smooth skin just revealed.

Roger threw his arms around Freddie's neck and pulled him impossibly close, burying his face on the other neck and mouthing at the soft skin. Freddie's hand found blond locks, slightly pulling at the roots. Roger's breath hitched against the dark haired man's neck, making Freddie smirk. The older man's hand trailed to the blond ass, squeezing the firm flesh, and he groaned in pleasure. Freddie inhaled Roger's sweet perfume, a fresh cologne with an underline that was so totally Roger's it was inebriating.

“Mmh baby, you smell so good” he mumbled, voice muffled. Roger let out a breathy laugh.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, while trading both hands on Freddie's dark hair. Freddie nodded sightly, leaving open mouthed kisses on whenever of Roger he could reach.

“Definitely, darling. And you taste even better”.

That said, Freddie slid both arms under Roger's thighs and lifted him up, the blond following his lead effortlessly and encircling his waist with both legs. Freddie kissed him again, just because he could, while moving toward the large bed in the middle of the room. He threw Roger on the mattress, enjoying how his pale skin and light hair stood out against the red sheets. The blond looked up at him under thick eyelashes.

“You're waiting for a written invitation?”.

Freddie had to chuckle at that, getting on the bed and crawling on all four to stand over the blond. He smirked down at him.

“I can't wait to fuck all that cheekiness out of you” he whispered hotly. He didn't let Roger answer back this time, bending down immediately to cover his mouth with a deep kiss. Roger moaned in the kiss, hips moving to get friction on his hardening erection. Freddie loved how sensitive Roger was, he could bring him to the verge of orgasm with only his mouth and fingers, if he wanted to. Freddie's fingers moved fast on the blond's shirt buttons, opening them with ease. He freed Roger of the garment, throwing it on the floor, and immediately attacked the smooth skin of the blond's torso. Roger threw his head back with a sigh, enjoying Freddie's attentions. The dark haired man couldn't wait longer, his hard on already painful. He took hold of Roger's face with both hands and fixed him with a heated look. He let his gaze drop to the blond tight shorts, and back to his blue eyes.  
“Take those off” he demanded in a breath. Roger's pupils were blown wide, the black drowning the blue nearly entirely.

“As you wish”.

The blond was naked in no time, sending his clothes flying to the floor without a care. Freddie sat back, enjoying how Roger's muscles moved under that creamy skin. The blond laid back, hair sprawled out on the cushions like a halo, eyes lidded, lips parted. Freddie took a sharp intake of breath and leaned over.

“You're so gorgeous, darling, so pretty for me” he whispered, trading an hand thorough blond hair and down, caressing every part of Roger's body. He stopped at the nipples, taking one between fingertips and slowly, deliberately, making it hard. Roger was panting, small puff of air hot on Freddie's lips. The dark haired man moved down, taking the other nipple in his mouth and sucking it, first softly, then hard, enjoying the moan escaping Roger's lips. He was going mad, body catching fire with the sheer desire. He bit down on the swollen nipple, hard, and Roger gasped. Then Freddie sat up, straddling Roger's thighs.

“It's hot in here, darling. Wanna do something about it?” he teased, while gesturing at his still clothed body. Roger had to take a moment to gather back his wits.

“Come here, you lazy ass” he shot back with an amused eye roll. Freddie leaned back down with a chuckle, to grant Roger slender fingers better access. The blond did fast work of Freddie's blouse, opening it up easily and leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kissed on the revealed skin. Freddie groaned at the sensation. Then Roger went further, shuffling his body to change position. Freddie went back to all fours, amused, looking down just to see that his blond lover had shuffled enough to have his pretty lips in line with Freddie's clothed hard on. He took a deep breath, blood rushing south at the sight.

“Seems like you have a program on your own, don't you sweetheart?” he panted out, breathless. Roger threw his head back to look at him upside-down.

“Seems like you're not complaining, are you, _sweet-cheeks_?” he parroted, with a saucy wink. Freddie would have laughed if he hadn't been struggling to breath. He balanced with one hand on the mattress, entangling the other in Roger's long hair and pushing him against his crotch.  
“Less talk, baby, and more _action_” he ordered, only half-teasing. His cock felt painful by now, still trapped in his tight pants. Roger giggled, but complied, deft fingers opening up the fly in no time. Freddie hissed when his erection was finally freed, and shivered at the colder air on his hot groin. However, Roger was fast in taking his cock into his hand, stroking him in slow pace. Freddie moaned at that, head falling down. But he needed more.

“Rog, baby, don't be a tease” he panted out, pulling a bit at the hair he still had in his grip. The blond didn't answer, but he didn't need to. A moment later Freddie gasped at the sensation of Roger hot mouth engulfing his dick. The blond didn't go slow, taking the entire of Freddie's girth in one go. Freddie moaned loud, arm trembling where he was supporting his weight.

“Mmh, yes, like that. Darling you're a real treasure, don't stop”. Freddie was rambling right now, not even aware of half the things that were falling thorough his lips, lost in the feeling of Roger swallowing him down whole. Freddie felt the familiar, burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, burning desire clouding his mind. But he didn't want to finish like this, no. He pretty much wanted to be buried in Roger's sweet ass for that. He tugged at the blond's hair.

“Lovely, Rog, enough darling or I'll come”. Roger stopped at that, releasing Freddie's cock with a wet pop.

“Come here” Freddie said, guiding him up and again at his eye-level. Roger looked absolutely sinful with those red and swollen lips, eyes wide and a bit watery. Freddie crashed their mouth together for a long, wet, kiss, while Roger's hands freed him of his pants still bundled on his legs. Together they stripped Freddie, the dark haired man finally as naked as his lover. They fall back on the mattress, arms and legs tangled and bodies close, enjoying the feeling of skin against skin. Freddie trapped Roger between himself and the bed, encasing the blond's head with both arms. They looked in each other eyes, lost for a long moment.

“You need to be prepped, dear?” Freddie panted, a hand already trailing between Roger's ass-cheeks. The blond shook his head slightly, opening his legs further to make the older man more comfortable. Freddie smirked.

“Perfect”.  
He checked nonetheless, aware of the fact that Roger was often of the opinion he could take more than it was necessary, at least when he was in bed with Freddie. He circled Roger's opening with one finger, making the blond squirm.

“Fred, c'mon, go on with it” the blond demanded, but the whiny tone kind of ruined the effect. Freddie chuckled.

“Patience is a virtue, darling” he remarked, ignoring the fact that he too was at the bring of orgasm. Roger huffed.

“Patience is the virtue of _patient_ people, which I'm definitely not. Now fuck me” he said sternly, moving his hips into Freddie's hand pointedly. Freddie shook his head with a chuckle.

“You'll take exactly what you asked for, lovely” he promised. Then proceeded to thrust in three fingers in one go, making Roger moan loudly. He was pleased to feel that the blond was, in fact, already opened up and slicked enough. The last thing Freddie wanted was to hurt him.  
He fucked Roger on his fingers for some time, eyes focused on the beautiful expression of the blond's face, mesmerised at the sheer pleasure of his lover. When he deemed that Roger was enough of a mess, he took out his fingers. Roger whined at the emptiness, chasing Freddie's hand. The older man chuckled.

“Don't worry, love, I won't neglect you” he panted, taking hold of Roger's thigh and pulling his leg upper to better access. Roger followed his lead, bringing his arms around Freddie's shoulder. They just needed a look to understand each other, and Freddie pushed in. They groaned in sync when Freddie bottomed out, feeling overwhelmed. Freddie paused to let Roger adjust, but it was a real struggle. The blond took some deep breath, Freddie was big and he felt wonderful.

“You can move” Roger whispered against Freddie lips. The dark haired man didn't let him tell twice, and began a slow pace, fucking Roger hard and deep. They didn't talk any more, the room filling with moans, breathy gasps and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Freddie moved an hand to the blond's erection, stoking it in tempo with his thrusts. Roger didn't last long after that, releasing himself with a nearly silent groan. Freddie followed soon after, milked out by the wonderful clenching of Roger's ass around him.

They stayed like that, connected, while gathering their breath under control. Freddie let his forehead fall on Roger's chest, inhaling his scent. He knew he had to stand up, wash and leave the room in a matter of minutes. He knew he had to get out and go home, even if the only thing he really wanted was to stay exactly were he was.

Even if the only thing he really wanted was to take Roger home with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, let me know what you think about this! Should I leave the poor smut alone?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian gains John's trust, and has some doubts answered. Also, he does something that could change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry for the delay (I had said weekends and here I am, posting on tursday...).  
Secondly, but no less important... I'm officially beginning my thesis. I'll still try to write as much as possible of this story, but I can't assure weekly chapters any more. I hope you'll still follow this fic anyway. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: mention of past rape and slavery on this chapter (first paragraph in cursive). 
> 
> Not native speaker, neither betaed. All mistakes are mine alone, and you're free to point them out :)

Brian brought John out of the MRP premises for some field work. The pixie was extremely smart, and he had proved it in more than one occasion (to say one, their computers were now miraculously working. That was magic all right, at least in Brian's opinion). The pixie didn't disappoint, and the two of them were able to gain quite the good deal for freeing a water nymph from a public aquarium. Brian decided to treat the both of them with some tea and sweets, because they deserved it.   
Brian took John in his favourite place, a little coffee shop that was situated practically at the other side of the city. He noted the faraway look on John's eyes when they passed the bridge, but didn't ask anything. The pixie would open up in his own time, and even if he won't, Brian wouldn't mind. They were friends, regardless of what happened in the past. The coffee shop was nearly empty when they got in, so Brian choose a table in the corner, a bit hidden from the rest of the hall, and they took a seat.

“So, let's toast at a job well done” Brian proposed, raising his cup of tea like some kind of priced champagne. The pixie laughed at that, but raised his own cup nonetheless. It was strange, the easy atmosphere that the two shared seemingly effortlessly. Brian liked very much John's company, and given the way the pixie tended to pair with him, maybe John liked his company too. The pixie took a sip a tea and swallowed a chocolate in one go.

“So, what's the plan now?” he asked, with a slightly distorted voice due to the treat still in his mouth. Brian found him too cute for words.

“Well... go back to the MRP and take another file” he shrugged. He hadn't foresee that they would be able to finish the deal in just three hours, he usually needed longer that that. However, John skills were more trained in getting what he wanted, and Brian could only cheer at that, of course. The pixie nodded, a pleased smile on his face. Brian could tell that he loved being useful for a good cause.

The front door bell ringed, announcing another client. Brian looked over John's shoulder, absent-mindedly watching the new patron. He was a man in his fifties, with grizzled hair and a prominent belly. When he looked back at John, however, he noticed that the pixie too had gazed at the man and immediately stiffened, turning back to Brian with wide and slightly terrified eyes.

“What's wrong?” Brian asked, keeping the tone low. John shook his head minutely, and Brian took the cue. He leaned back in his chair and feigned disinterest. The man ordered at the counter and then moved in the back of the room precisely in their direction. Brian cursed under his breath.   
The man didn't seem to notice them until he passed their table. He however stopped right next to John, looking at him thoughtfully.

“Excuse me, but did we met before?” the man asked, politely if a bit gruffly. John was able to maintain a poker face, but Brian could see the small tremble of his hand.

“Don't think so, no” the pixie answered, with a steady voice. Brian didn't know, but could make an accurate guess. If he was right, he had to admire the pixie strength. The man seemed pensive for a beat, but then shrugged and moved away. Brian took in the pixie's ashen complexion and decided it was time to get the hell out of there.

“Come on John, let's go” he whispered to the shaken pixie. He had to actively help him out of his chair and support him till the door. John seemed in a sort of trance, and his legs weren't working properly. Brian had never seen him like this, and it scared him.

Brian led the pixie out on the street, first to the right and then to the left. He was happy that he knew the place so well, because he remembered that there was a nice park just behind the coffee shop. At the sight of pure and majestic nature John relaxed immediately, his grip on Brian's arm resembling more a hold instead of a vice. Brian gently pushed John on a bench, that was placed under a tree with thick foliage and that overlooked a nice pond. He seated beside the pixie, not breaking the silence but not letting him go. John shuffled near him until their bodies were pressed together. It was a nice sensation.

They stayed silent for what Brian felt it was a long time. The watched attentively at the pixie's profile, noticing how he was clenching his jaw so tight it seemed painful. He was still pale, but less than before. He was playing with his hands, catching a loose tread of his jumper. Brian maintained the respectful silent, but took one of John's hand in his, hoping to stead him. When John finally spoke, it took Brian by surprise.

“Thank you” he said, voice low and serious. Brian furrowed his brow.

“You're welcome. What for?” he replied readily. He didn't do anything more than what a friend had to do. John sighed.

“For bringing me out of there. For staying with me here” he elaborated, still with that seriousness that Brian couldn't quite place. It wasn't the first time that Brian had steered John out from difficult situations, mostly involving the public forces on streets. However, Brian knew that this time it was personal for the pixie.

“Who was him?” Brian heard himself ask. He cringed inwardly, he knew it was those kind of personal questions that John distaste with all his being. The pixie's shoulders slumped.

“That was my third owner” he confessed in a whisper. Brian nodded, he had guessed right. He moved nearer the pixie and placed a comforting arm around John. He felt the pixie relax against his body, something that he only did with Roger, until now. Brian didn't inquire more, he didn't need to know. But if John wanted to talk, he was here to listen. John took a shaky breath.

“He bought me when I was auctioned here in the city. I remembered the bridge, but didn't know his home was near here” he said, glancing around the little park. He never get the opportunity to walk in that park before now, but then, he hadn't gotten a lot of opportunities to walk out of that man house. Brian nodded against the pixie head, tucked safely between his chin and shoulder.

“You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to” Brian reassured, caressing John's side in a warm gesture. The pixie exhaled.

“I know. But I want to”.

  
  


_It wasn't being sold the point that made his blood cold. Hell, he had been passed from owner to owner in just four years, and before he was owned too even if he had at least his mother and sister. It was the auction that made everything so much worse. _

_The bright room, the stage, and all those humans that shouted, and shouted. Prices, better offers, and comments about the 'goods' on stage – about him. He never before had felt so objectified, and it was bringing tears to his eyes. _

_He was nineteen, now. There was so much younger mythicals on stage with him that he didn't even feel like he was allowed to cry. So he got a grip on himself and tried to stay strong. His previous life had been bad, and he didn't regret one bit that they had been caught. However, you know what you lost, but not what you get, it's the saying. It applied perfectly in his situation. _

_Someone got near the stage and paid the slavers. He felt an hand on the back of his neck that pushed him forward, and out of the blinding lights. _

“_Here's your pixie, sir”. _

_He looked up, to see a stranger face. The dark hairs were already stained by some grey, he had a long nose and cold, green eyes. The stranger smiled, but it wasn't comforting. The man took his arm, and he felt like run away. He dismissed the laughable idea, running _ where _ exactly? He was lead away from the stage, and into a dark corner. The man sat on a chair and gestured at the floor at his side. He knew what he was expected from him, so he slid on his knees on the indicated place. _

“_Did they give you a name?”._

_That was an interesting question. His parents had give him a name, of course. He was a Sidhe name, though, and it was as difficult in pronunciation as secret for himself. He would never offer his name to the human who just bought him. Other people just called him 'pixie', or 'hey you'. He didn't believe that one of them would suffice as answer to the man question. He shook his head. _

“_Hum, we should think of one” the man hummed, but didn't elaborate. The man took something out of his pocket, and upon seeing what it was he cringed inside. He hated collars, and managed to not have to wear one since he was fourteen. Alas, he couldn't really complain, or refuse. He held a strong front when the man's hands went to fasten it around his neck. _

“_Perfect. Come now, let's go home”. _

_Home was a unfamiliar concept to him, never had one of his own, or one in which he felt safe. However, the first weeks passed in somewhat peace, surprisingly. The man expected from him to take care of the house, and cooking meals. He wasn't a pro by all means, but he managed all right. He didn't suffered any too painful punishments, and the man wasn't the epitome of the cruel human he though he would be. All in all, it could had been worse. _

_And worse it had gone. _

_He had noticed that the man lived alone. He walked out every morning for work, leaving him in the house and closing all doors, and got back at half afternoon. No friends coming for a visit, no wife, no children. No even a mistress. He could have predicted the following events, but in his naivety he didn't. When the man demanded to him to join him in bed, it was like a bucket of icy water.   
The first night went horrendously. He didn't know what to do, or how to stop the dreadful feeling blossoming in his chest. He ended up crying like a toddler, loud sobs that wrecked his slim body that he wasn't able to contain. The man was annoyed, but didn't forced him further. He let him sleep on the mattress that was placed on the floor like a temporary bed – and now he knew _ why _ it was supposed to be temporary – and didn't touch him more. He curled up under the thin blanket, shivering like a leaf, unable to fall asleep. _

_The second night went even worse. The man had done waiting, because neither the pixie inability to move nor the whispered begs had stopped him. He had cried that night, after all was finished and the man was snoring soundly just beside him. He cried all night, silently, with his face smashed in the pillow, until he had no tears. _

_The third night he couldn't take it. He wasn't going to take it. He had stayed in that house for less than a month, but it was enough. He inwardly blessed his smart thinking skills, and his owner obliviousness, because it was fairly easy. He had looked around the house, finding some used lingerie stuffed in the back of a closet. It seemed something a fairy could wear, but it didn't mattered. He didn't plan on using it anyway. When it was time to retire, and the man was already slouched on the covers, he had the courage to speak up. When he proposed the man to wear what he had found, the idiot's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. _

“_Sure thing, lovely. In the bathroom there should be some make up too”. _

_He had jumped at the opportunity. He leaved the bedroom silently, only to shut the door and locking him in. The man got what he wanted to do fairly quickly, because his shouts and banging on the door followed the pixie outside and on the streets. However he wasn't going back, not in a million years. He didn't know where he was, but he didn't care. He took a random direction and just ran. _

_He ran for what felt like hours. A mad run at that, without slowing down. He passed rows of houses, all dark and silent in the night. He passed shops, lightened windows and a bridge. He stopped there, to unfasten the dreadful collar and throw it in the river. He wasn't going to be owned, never again. _  
He run in what he though was the lowest part of the city. The houses were replaced by tenements, the street lights were less bright and fewer, and the overall feeling was of a place left to rotten.   
He didn't slow down. 

_He ran and ran, mindful of the police patrolling the streets. He though they were looking for him, but nobody asked him a thing. He ran until he felt his throat burn, his lungs collapsing and his stomach on fire. He didn't slow down. _

_He exited a corner, finding himself in a bigger street. The lamps were a bit brighter there, and the pavements wider. He looked around for where to run to, he wanted to stay in the shadows, but he didn't get far. He took one step and felt his eyeballs rolling back. His exhaustion caught up with him and he fainted. _

“You fainted? What happened next?”

Brian was positively horrified by the story, John could tell, but also pretty curious. He smiled softly before answering.

“I woke up to the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen”. 

_Roger was enjoying his cigarette in somewhat peace, back leaning against the brick wall. His previous client hadn't needed much, but had paid well. He could concede himself a bit of a pause.   
He had just stopped laughing at Tim's bullshit when he saw him. A man arrived from a corner, running like a madman. He looked around and then slumped on the ground. When the man remained unmoving for too long Roger got worried and hurried toward him. _

“_The fuck, Rog, leave him there” someone shouted in the background, probably Tim, but Roger elected to ignore him. He reached the passed out man and crouched down, leaning over him.   
“Hey mate, wake up”. Roger tried patting his cheek, studying in the meantime his face. A bit angular, definitely young. Cute, even if worn out. Too much slim, probably underweight. Long brown-reddish hair, tangled and curling at the ends. He noticed a tip of a pointed ear and gasped._

_He searched for a collar, but there where none. _

_The man – well, mythical being – eyes fluttered open and his dazed gaze focused on him. Roger smiled. _

“_Hello there” he said softly, to not scare him. The grey-green eyes darted around for a second and then back to Roger. _

“_P...pretty” the boy murmured, eyes still fixed on him. Roger chuckled. _

“_You fainted. Do you have an owner?” he asked. The boy's eyes widened slightly, pure dread in them. Roger understood immediately. _

“_No, wait. Don't worry, I won't hand you over, I promise. You're safe now, you're safe” he reassured the boy, caressing his cheek softly. The being tried to nod, but his eyes lost focus again. Roger patted his cheek. _

“_No, don't fall asleep. Let's bring you home, shall we? Looks like you need an hot shower and something to eat” he proposed, moving to help the mythical standing up. The boy wasn't much responsible, but Roger managed to put him on his feet with a hand looped on his waist. _

“_What the hell are you doing now?” Tim's voice cut the silence, and Roger looked up at his flatmate and co-worker._

“_I bring him home, he needs help” the blond said, taking a tentative step toward the pavement. The being was dragged with him by sheer force of will on Roger's part, the boy nearly catatonic at this point. Tim snorted. _

“_Oh really? Leave him here, Rog. We don't need another problem, we're already neck-deep in ours as it is”. _

_It's not that Tim wasn't right, because Roger knew that he wasn't exactly floating high. But just a look at the poor mythical – what the hell was him anyway? An elf? Roger didn't know fuck shit about other species – set his mind. _

“_I can't just leave him to die, Tim, I'm not this cold hearted”. Vicious? Probably, but that doesn't mean it wasn't true. Tim grimaced, but shrugged one shoulder. _

“_As you wish, but you're alone in this” he pointed out. Roger shrugged, when wasn't he? _

_Tim left them after that final statement, returning to their working point. Roger was faced by quite the dilemma, though. He and Tim usually walked home, not wanting to spend hard earned money on public transport. However, the boy didn't seem able to walk any more in his state. God knows how much had he already run this night. Roger dragged him for some streets, but it was a struggle for him too. He was quite slender himself, and also underfed. That wasn't working.   
Roger stopped by a pub, still quite populated. He could work with that. The blond helped the boy sit down, with his back against the wall, and tried to walk away. The being's hand shot up to held on his arm. _

“_Don't... please” the boy forced out. Roger felt his heart clench at the miserable sight. _

“_Ssh, don't worry, I'm not leaving you. I have to find a lift to bring us home. Us both” he explained, running a soothing hand over the boy's one. The being seemed to understand, because he released his weak hold on him. Roger patted his hand reassuringly. _

“_Stay here a moment, I'll come back soon”. _

“He came back, I assume?” Brian asked when the pixie stopped talking for a long moment. John nodded.   
“He surely did, because the next time I woke up I was in a bed, bundled up in what seemed like all the blankets in the room. Roger was asleep on a chair at my side” the pixie said, a pensive look on his face and a warm smile on his lips. “And he stayed at my side since then”. 

Brian didn't know what to say. It was dreadful, and it was just a month of John's life. He looked at the pixie, studying his face that was illuminated by the warm rays of the afternoon sun. He was so young, and had suffered so much. Brian admired his strength, and his courage. His desire to live, and his resolve to make his life better. His bright intelligence, and dry humour. How his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and the cute gap between his front teeth when he smiled that cheeky smile of his. Brian admired John, all his facets and flairs. 

John turned to look at him, and Brian moved in autopilot. He leaned in the pixie's personal space and placed his lips on John's. 

It was a chaste kiss, just the brushing of their lips, but it was magical. It felt great, and it felt right. John's lips moved against his like they were made to stay glued to each other, and Brian couldn't think of a better sensation in the entire world. His hands tentatively found the pixie's ones and he hold them tight, never wanting to let go. 

When John leaned back, Brian was breathless. The pixie looked at him with a curious glare. 

“What was that for?”. Brian shrugged, a small smile turning his lips. 

“I wanted to, and it felt right” he answered honestly. Then, he paled. In the heat of the moment, he had totally forgotten one thing: Roger. 

What had he done? John was going to distance from him, Roger would never talk to him again... or worse, Roger  _would_ talk to him, and probably gifting him with a black eye too, and he would think he was taking advantage and  _oh god he had fucked everything up, didn't he? _

John's hand was on his cheek then, cupping his jaw sweetly. 

“Brian? You still with me?”. 

Brian didn't dare to speak, or even move. It felt like the slight change of their precarious position would made everything crash down. John smiled his cute smile. 

“You got lost in you head again, didn't you?”. 

Brian nodded minutely, hand still clenching John's in an unforgiving grip. The pixie sighed. 

“Stop thinking so much, will you? For once, turn off your brain” he said, kissing him again. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [John gets angry, and makes an hastly decision. Roger experiences his worst nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody!
> 
> A chapter a bit shorter then the others,giving that I don't have a lot of time to write. I still hope you'll like it :)
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's still following this fic.

The warm rays of the sun woke up John from his sleep. The pixie hummed contently, snuggling a bit more into the fresh sheets. Roger beside him was still fast asleep, his chest raising and falling in a slow pace. John smiled, and rubbed his cheek against the blond's shoulder.   
John was happy. He liked what he could do at the MRP, and enjoyed the company of the other members. He never thought he could have  _friends. _ He didn't thought that he could have someone else, aside from Roger, who would be interested in him, John. Not in him as a pixie, sadly there were too much people interested in him for that. And then, the kiss with Brian... that had felt right. Great, even. John made a soft giggle, not wanting to disturb Roger's sleep but too giddy to keep silent. That had been an unforeseen turn of events, but a joyful one nonetheless. He had an appointment with Brian in the afternoon, for a coffee. It sounded like a date. He, John Deacon, pixie extraordinaire, was going  _on a date_ . With an  _human_ . Damn absurd. 

The pixie's eyes shifted to his blond bedmate, and he sighed. He owed him his new life, the pixie knew, and he didn't understand why the blond wasn't asking anything in return. No loyalty, no discipline. Roger instead found amusing, and even cheered, John's rebellion against society. The pixie had asked Roger why he was like this, this  _different_ from the rest of the world. The blond had snorted, and told him that there were a lot of good people outside, that John had just been unlucky enough to not found them yet. And he was right, because the MRP happened. And then Brian happened. John let out another giggle, this time louder, and Roger shifted in his sleep. John put an hand over his mouth but it was too late, and a moment later Roger's big blue eyes fluttered open.   
“Morning Deaks” he grumbled, voice incredibly raspy in his still half asleep state. John smiled.   
“Good morning, sleepyhead” he murmured, placing a loving kiss on the blond's parted lips. Roger hummed in approval. John, to prevent the blond from getting back to sleep, sprawled himself on top of Roger, peppering his face with obnoxious, wet kisses. Roger squirmed under him, begging him to stop, the bedroom filling with peels of happy laughters from both of them. When the pixie's assault subsided, Roger was well awake. The blond groaned. 

“Okay, trouble, I'm awake, I'm awake” he assured, placing his hands on the pixie's shoulders. John smiled down at him. 

“Do you know what I'm planning today?” the pixie asked, giddy. He hadn't had the occasion to tell Roger the night before, the blond too exhausted to do more than fell face first on the mattress.

Roger smiled, prompting the pixie to speak with a small gesture.

“I have a date! With Brian! We kissed yesterday, and it was great...” John exclaimed, slumping on his back with a faraway expression. The pixie turned to look at Roger, noting that his smile had faltered a bit. John furrowed his brows, confused. 

“You... There's a problem?” the pixie asked, and Roger was quick to wipe the uncertain grimace from his face, replacing it with a beaming smile. 

“Not at all, on the contrary, I'm happy for you. He seems a good man” the blond answered. To anyone he would have seemed enthusiastic, but not to John who knew him better than anyone else. Roger's entire face was smiling, and his voice was as happy as it could be, but the light didn't reach his eyes. And if eyes are the mirror of soul, Roger had a kaleidoscope of emotion constantly swirling in those blue orbs. He was the perfect definition of 'wearing your heart on your sleeves'.   
“Something is bothering you” John said, and it wasn't a question. Roger's eyes widened, and he snorted.   
“No, nothing's wrong Deaky. I just worry too much, that's all” he answered, offering John a warm smile. The pixie shook his head, he wasn't convinced. But indeed Roger worried a lot about John's well-being, and was probably shutting down his protective instinct in favour of giving Brian the benefit of the doubt. John shrugged, unconcerned. Brian was a great friend, and a good hearted human. He felt safe with him. 

“Brian's good, you know him. He'll honour my virtue” he laughed, flopping down on Roger's chest again. The blond hummed, caressing John's hair in a soft gesture, making the pixie purr. John raised his head to steal another kiss but Roger dodged. 

“Okay lazy ass, it's time to get up” the blond prompted, pushing gently John off of him and getting out from under the blanket. John slumped back on the mattress, flabbergasted. What the hell was Roger doing? He fixed the blond, who was fussing over the room to find some clean clothes, with a stern glare. Roger was talking about his own plans for the day, giving that it was Sunday he had less to do even at the EMI, but John wasn't listening. He crossed his arms against his chest. 

“Don't I get my good morning kiss?” 

The question was delivered coldly and Roger startled, his back to John. When the pixie didn't elaborate for a long minute, the blond turned to him.

“I thought you had a date with Brian today?” he asked, cautiously. John raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. 

“Yes, I do. Your point?”

“Well, my point is that if you have found love you should cherish it. With Brian” Roger sighed. The look on John's face didn't faltered. 

“So what? I kiss someone else and suddenly don't love you any more?” the pixie demanded, his brows furrowed and a dark glint in those grey-green eyes. Roger swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“... usually is like that, yes” he elaborated tentatively. John raised his eyebrows, and Roger sighed. “What?” he asked, seeing the determination in John's eyes. The pixie scoffed. 

“I wasn't aware that kissing someone meant that you automatically give up everyone else for them” he commented, looking sideways at the bedside table. Roger followed the same line of sight, landing directly on his stage clothes of the night before. 

“John, for fuck's sake, that's _work_!” he exclaimed, annoyed. He didn't like to sleep with more than half of his clients, honestly. John raised both his eyebrows. 

“Oh really? Is Freddie 'just work' too?” he asked coldly, and Roger felt his cheeks burning. 

“For the love of... _yes_, John, he's work too. He _pays_ me” he answered hotly, electing to break the eye-contact with the pixie and go on with dressing. He couldn't deny that he genuinely liked Freddie, he was a great guy and a very good shag. Roger could fall in love with him, really, if it wasn't for the fact that Freddie definitely _wasn't _ in love. No, at least Freddie was able to call his feelings by their name, and what he felt for the blond was pure and sheer lust, nothing more. He told it himself just the night before, 'entirely selfish reasons'. Also, what kind of relationship could born between a fucking _whore_ and his clients, mh? Certainly not a romantic love story. John was still looking at him with barely contained annoyance, Roger could feel his eyes burning holes on his back. Roger relented first, not one for silent confrontations. 

“What do you want me to say, John? I like him, he's great, but that doesn't erase the fact that he still pays me for sex. That's _not_ love, in any book” he sighed, defeated. John snorted. 

“Maybe I should pay you too, at least you would take me into consideration” he hissed, and Roger's face fell, eyes widening. John seemed regretful one second later, but that didn't change the fact that the statement had hurt the blond more deeply that even he cared to admit. John's heart tightened in his chest, and he lowered his eyes. 

“Sorry, that was... low. And unfairly cruel” he murmured. Roger didn't reply, but turned his back to him again, and John couldn't tolerate it any more. 

“Why, Roger? Why can't you just open your eyes and _see_ that I love you?” he nearly screamed, words dripping with a sad sort of desperation. He hated to know where Roger went every night, and that wasn't jealousy for his body. No, it was a torn in his heart knowing that _Roger_ wasn't happy, that _Roger _was suffering more often that not, that _Roger_ missed university, and dreamed for another life. It was _Roger_ he cared about, not his body or his face. And the fact that the blond couldn't see it was driving him mad. Roger's shoulders slumped. 

“I told you a million of times. The _thing_ you feel for me... it's not love. It's similar, and can be confused with, but it's _not_ love” Roger said, defeated. He hated having that discussion with John again and again, but the stubborn pixie didn't want to acknowledge the truth. It was particularly distressing for Roger, because he _loved_ John, truly, and with all his heart. The pixie bristled.   
“No, not with that 'it's-not-love-but-lust' bullshit again! I'm not one of your clients, Rog, you can't dismiss my feelings like they're nothing!” John burst out, with fire in his eyes. Roger swallowed on nothing.   
“Deaks, you have to take facts as they are! I choose this for myself, I knew what it implied” Roger exploded, he was getting annoyed too, “and facts are facts! You met Brian, spent time with him and oh, look at that! You like him and you kissed him! That is real sentiment, John, that's what falling in love means!” he went on, raising his voice without realising it. “With me, on the other end... it's different. You _know_ it's different!” he accused, gesturing at himself – his body, his face, his fucking _perfume_ for god's sake! All intriguing, all _perfect_, all created to make everyone lose their mind... 

“Don't! Don't you fucking dare, Roger Taylor! I know _you_! I know what you think, I know what you like, and I know who you are! I don't care about looks, I love you for yourself!” John screamed, voice raising louder than Roger's. The blond shook his head, and offered him a small smile. 

“Then why Brian, Deaky? Why kissing him, why get a date with him, if you're loving me?” he asked, and for John it was clearly a rhetorical question. The pixie shivered with rage, Roger had already make up his mind and to him that was just the final evidence. But to be honest... John didn't have an answer for that question. 

“I... I don't know” he confessed, truly confused. He looked at the sheets for a long moment, Roger's eyes never leaving his slumped shape. 

“Isn't it possible to... love you both?” John whispered, head raising to Roger, looking for answers and comfort. The blond sighed, moving to the bed an sitting beside John, an arm circling his shoulders. The pixie placed his head on the blond's shoulder, the feeling of safety and certainty and _home_ filling his heart with warm. Roger's hand was making long, soothing circles on John's back. 

“Yes, it's possible to love more than one people with all your heart, Deaks. It's not common, but exists” Roger murmured, with that soft voice that was reserved for John and John only. Roger placed a small kiss on the unruly brown-red hair. 

“And it's fantastic, and pure and just. Don't believe to anyone who says you otherwise” Roger continued, the movement of his hand never stopping. John nodded against the blond's shoulder, reassured. He wasn't strange, or completely out of his mind, then. Just... different. Well, he was different in a lot of thing, one more won't destroy his peace of mind. 

Then Roger opened his mouth again, and the relaxed atmosphere crumbled like a cards castle.   
“Just... it's not me. You  _aren't_ in love with me, John, you can't. It's just the way things are”. 

John felt an insane rage growing in his chest, similar to a fire that burned with fury and desperation. He threw Roger's arm away and stood up. 

“Fucking hell, you unbelievable idiot! I can't stand to hear any more idiocy leaving your mouth” he grumbled, tearing off his pyjamas and putting on the first clothes he laid his hands on. Roger, still seated on the mattress, sighed softly. 

“John, believe me, no one is more saddened by this situation as I am. Still, the first you'll understand it, the better will be. For you”. 

John let out a guttural growl and left the bedroom. He couldn't do this. He couldn't hear this again. Not when Roger was so sure in casting his feelings aside as they were a construct of John's lust-filled mind. It was too painful to bear. 

Without thinking, John put on his boots and took a coat from the hanger. He registered, on the back of his mind, that was Roger's fur coat, but at the moment he didn't give a damn. Without so much as a word he stormed off the flat, having great care of slamming the door as hard as he could. 

Fuck him for being this stubborn. Fuck himself for giving a damn. 

  
  


*

Roger heard the door slam shut, but he didn't move a muscle. It wasn't the first time that the pixie had an outburst, and it wasn't going to be the last. At least this time he had someone to turn to, which it was better than having him roam the city alone. Brian... who would have predict this turn of events? Not Roger, honestly, but he should have seen it coming. By John happy stories, all the time they spent together, the way he looked at Brian, and even by the soft glances that the curly haired man reserved for the pixie. Roger had wrongly assumed they were Brian's kind heart that found joy in seeing a mythical free and happy. Clearly there was more than that. 

He only hoped that Brian would be able to calm John. A cranky pixie wasn't a great experience. Roger knew all too well. 

Slowly he stood up, and changed to some comfortable clothes. He was going to eat some breakfast and then trying to relax. It was his day off after all, at least until ten in the evening. For once he had maybe the chance of finishing his book, he hadn't had much time to read in the past weeks. Didn't have much time to sleep too, if he had to be honest with himself. He decided on a nice cuppa, and to call bids on the couch for the entire morning, it wasn't like John would come home before midday anyway. 

Roger walked to the kitchenette and started the kettle. It was strange, but he had a bad feeling. He left his eyes wander thorough the room, the absence of John weird for a Sunday morning. It was some time since the last fight between him an the pixie, and it didn't surprise him that their biggest fall out was always related to the same topic. Not that Roger could do much about it, as he had said to John more than once. He chose this for himself. And even if it could be unfair that all his life had to be dictated by a mistake of his younger self, it couldn't be undone now. Roger had to live with it for the rest of his life. 

The kettle whistled, waking Roger from his thoughts. He fixed a cup of tea, but still that nagging sensation wouldn't leave him alone. It couldn't be related to John, though, Roger knew that the pixie was more than able to take care for himself. Also, he was ninety percent sure that the pixie was directed at Brian's, and Roger couldn't think of another place safer for John. 

It was only when he was making his way to the couch that his eyes fell to the hanger near the door. He absent-mindedly noted that his fur coat was missing, and he merely rolled his eyes. Damn that pixie, he could be vicious when he wanted to. He had worked his ass off to afford that coat, he better return it in perfect conditions. It was quite unusual, though, for John to dismiss his suede jacket, he was in love with that thing. But probably he didn't give it much thought, he had stormed off as fast as he could in his effort to escape Roger's presence. Hell, knowing John he could have even leave his cellphone here, together with his wallet, knowing that Brian was going to pay for him anyway. 

The cup fell down of his hand, spilled tea running freely over the worn-out carpet. Roger turned on his heels, dread filling his heart, and he sprinted to the hanger. With trembling hands the blond searched the suede jacket pockets, praying to not be right. Pleading to be wrong. 

His hand touched the angle of an holder, and quickly Roger took it out. He fixed his eyes on it, and felt panic raising. He was right. Bloody hell, he was right. 

John had left his false ID at home. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for kudos and comments! They are the delight of this author :)


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